


All Magic Comes With A Price

by brokensmolder



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, xover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:09:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokensmolder/pseuds/brokensmolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam find some notes from a case their father abandoned, hidden in the binding of his old journal. Figuring that it might be worth checking out, the boys head up to Storybrooke, Maine, to look into this story from a boy and a missing town back in 1984. The Winchesters may have bitten off more than they can chew, once they roll into town and find that there is more going on than even John could have known about.<br/>The angels can not see inside the town, the entire area having been wiped of the map nearly three decades ago, and thusly Castiel feels the need to warn the boys that he can not help in any great fashion. But soon they all start to discover things in Storybrooke are more rooted in their lives than any of them could have guessed.</p><p>(Takes place just after episode 6x21 of Supernatural, and 2x17 of Once.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witness Protection: Enchanted Forest Edition

 

  
_"We come from the land of the ice and snow / From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow." -Led Zeppelin_  

 

It was almost too easy, really.

In all the chaos and excitement happening, how much simpler could escaping Lucifer get? Come on, Gabriel really had expected more from his older brother. How had he not seen the doppleganging coming?

As he left the Fake Gabe to die in his place (he personally thought the burnt wings to 'prove' his death was a stroke of genius), he decided to skedaddle on out of there and to a place where no one from that world would ever think to look for him.

Taking a deep breath and savoring the piney aroma, Gabriel began to walk through the forest in which he appeared. This world was destined for greatness, he could tell. The Enchanted Forest could prove to be an amazing new hideout for him. The next, more extreme stage of his own personal witness protection.

_Speaking of which,_  he thought _, I should change my clothes. Can't be standing out, now._

And with a snap of his fingers, his jacket, t-shirt, and jeans were replaced by a white button-down shirt, a brown leather vest, a purple velvet cloak, and brown pants. His sneakers were replaced with brown leather boots.

"Now that's what I call 'peasantry with style!'" He said to himself as he straightened his clothes.

He continued on through the woods with a new spring in his step, his new duds making him feel well camouflaged and just a tad bit more protected. A distant noise made him pause mid-step as he crossed over a fallen young tree, something sounding much like a yell of frustration from a woman. Perhaps it was just a domestic spat with a drunken husband, or maybe it could be anger at a stubborn mule. Whatever the case may be, and it could be any number of things, curiosity got the better of Gabriel. He hoped it wouldn't kill the cat in this circumstance.

Rushing over to where he heard the noise, he shouted, "Despair not, fair maiden, for I shall come to thy rescue!"  _That was definitely a bit much_ , Gabriel mumbled inwardly.

A woman stood in a clearing, struggling with an axe and a pile of wood, but she turned at the sound of Gabriel trodding into the brush behind her, a shocked look on her face. "Oh!" She cried out in a startled tone. "You frightened me, sir," she said, an embarrassed expression donning her face.

Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows and looked around, taking in the sight. The woman was clearly building a structure - a house? Gabriel guessed. "Do you... Need help?" He asked, taking a tentative step toward her.

Her shocked face turned to one of gratitude. "Oh, I would love some help, sir," she said with a smile.

* * *

The house was stacked with piles upon piles of old tomes and other research materials, most of them untouched for years, a thick layer of dust upon them, but that was perfectly okay with the men that currently resided within. That was the way it had been for almost as long as any of them could remember, so what reason did they have to go changing things? And really, the house only belonged to one of them, and it definitely was not one of the Winchester blood line.

"Git yer feet off the coffee table," Bobby Singer said, kicking Dean, the elder of the brothers Winchester, in the sole of his shoe, knocking his legs off the edge. "Ya idjit."

Dean opened his mouth to retort, as with the action of his legs falling down, he'd dropped his father's journal that he'd been perusing, but he stopped when he saw something peculiar. Rather than continue with what was sure to have been a witty and/or sarcastic comment, he bent down to where the leather bound book now lay sprawled on the floor, a corner of the cracked and faded cover slightly pulled away from the cardboard frame. Tucked up under the edge, where the Winchesters had only thought was the book's binding, was a small cluster of folded paper.

"Hey Sammy, check this out," he said, picking up the book and leaning back into the couch again, bringing the journal into his lap. As Sam came over to the couch, leaving his laptop open on the nearby table, Dean slowly began to peel back the leather.

"How did we miss that before?" Sam asked, eyebrows creased as he watched his older brother carefully working at freeing the pages.

Concentrating fiercely on the task at hand, Dean only shook his head rather than speaking, his tongue pressed between his teeth as he worked. After what seemed like a slow eternity, when it hadn't in fact been more than a minute, the pages were free from their leather prison and the journal was unceremoniously discarded on the coffee table. "Ready to see what Dad had to hide?" Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow at his brother.

"If you go any slower, I'm going to kill you," Sam said with a serious look on his face. The effect was spoiled a second later when his mouth turned into a smirk.

The paper unfolded in Dean's grasp, revealing a newspaper clipping and a couple sheets of lined paper, obviously torn from the same binder that now lay haphazardly on the table, across which was their father's untidy, yet militaristic scrawl. "Okay... 29 years ago... Blah blah blah..." Dean said as his eyes roamed the paper. "A kid says his dad goes missing in some town in Maine. But the police say the town doesn't even exist."

"Well, I sure haven't heard of Storybrooke, have you?" Sam asked, snatching up the newspaper clipping and going over to the laptop, leaving Dean with the notebook pages. He quickly typed the town's name into the search engine, and he only got many links to different tellings of the exact same story, printed in various newspapers.

"Apparently Dad tried talking to the kid, but the officials and foster care wouldn't let him, so he tried going to the source," Dean summarized from the notebook sheets. "There was nothing there, just like the papers reported. But at the edge of the forest where the kid said it was supposed to be, Dad says that he got this strange feeling not to go further in. Like the place was repelling him."

"Like a spell?" Sam asked, rejoining Dean on the couch.

"I remember John mentioning that," Bobby said, sitting in a nearby armchair with a beer in his hand. "Said he always meant to go back there, try and solve it. But for the time bein', he had to call it a cold case. Ain't no more trails to go sniffin' after." He took a swig from the bottle. "Wonder why he hid it in the journal, though?"

"Maybe he didn't want us to go digging around there for some reason," Sam offered.

"Sounds like plenty reason to head on up there then," Dean said, grabbing his car keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks so much for reading this little fic that me and my brother (TheDisnerd on ff.net) have been working on! It's a work in progress, of course, but we just came up with the idea, and here we have our first chapter! We have a lot in store, so we would love to hear from our readers! Reviews make us happy, and make us write faster! Also, please be patient with us, as we have very busy lives and can't really update on a regular basis/schedule. WE PROMISE GREAT THINGS TO COME! :)  
> Also, the unnecessary disclaimer: WE OWN NEITHER SUPERNATURAL OR ONCE UPON A TIME. We are just avid fans with crazy ideas!!
> 
> Chapter Song: Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin


	2. The Lying, The Witch, And The Trenchcoat

 

_"It's not me, it's you, it's not me, it's you / Always has been you / All the lies and stupid things / You say and do, it's you" -Skillet_

"You're sure we're goin' the right way?" Dean asked for the hundredth time, his fingers drumming the steering wheel impatiently. "Have we seen that tree before? I think we've seen that tree before."

"Dean, we haven't seen that tree, and yes, we're going the right way," Sam replied, going over the map their father had drawn on one of the notebook pages yet again just in case. "Can we turn down the radio?" He started to reach for the knob, since the Led Zepplelin was starting to get to him, but Dean grabbed it and turned it down first. Sam sighed, irritated at Dean's mollycoddling. "I could have done it myself..."

"You've got a cracked melon, I get it," dean said, glancing worriedly at his brother from the corner of his eye. "Besides, you'd have turned it down too much, and I'd have to slap you."

Sam leaned back in the passenger seat again, pouring himself back into the map and comparing it to the road map of Maine they'd picked up. He'd triple checked it twelve times ago, and he was absolutely positive they were on the right track. He rubbed his temple, the headache already subsiding. Sure, he was still recovering from his ordeal, the walls inside his head crumbling down and he had to pick up the pieces, but he was fine. Really, Dean didn't have to keep looking at him as though he was about to go apeshit and starting killing people. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean said with a smirk. And then he practically stood on the brakes, making the car come to a sudden stop, and Sam was thrown against his seatbelt. Thank God he'd worn the thing.

"What the hell?" He said, glaring at his brother.

"Look," Dean said, pointing at a road sign, the word "Storybrooke, 1 Mile" written on it clear as day. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

* * *

Strange as it was to meet a woman in the woods, it was stranger still to discover that she was a witch. Gabriel had nothing against witches of this world, as they did not serve his self righteous older brother Lucifer as the ones of present-day Earth. As he helped the woman build her house, they'd gotten to talking, and she revealed things to him as though they'd known each other for years.

"I wish for children," she said as they worked, taking a rest on a stump. "I will take in lost children here, that is my plan."

Of course, Gabriel was no fool. He knew exactly what she meant by this. He was many millennia old, there was no way he could have missed the underlying agenda this woman had, especially since it was written in such detail as a fable in other worlds. But the cottage they were building here was made of wood, and that contradicted every tale ever told.

"Well, don't you think you need something to entice them with?" He asked, a sly grin on his face. He was positively giddy, how often would he get to be involved in a story as famous as this?

The woman paused, staring at her unfinished house with distaste. "I'm sure we can think of something," she said, waving her arm lazily at the house, adorning it with flowers. She frowned at the result.

"How about... This?" Gabriel said, snapping his fingers, his tone gleeful. The entire house suddenly transfigured, becoming all manner of delectable treat and candy that a child could ever hope for. The sweet toothed angel was writing history here, and no one ever even knew he had a hand in it. It was, quite possibly, one of the most thrilling moments of his life. It sure as hell beat the time he told Mary of her immaculate conception of his half-brother, Jesus.

* * *

"Welcome to Storybrooke," Dean said happily as they came into view of the old fashioned wooden welcome sign. "So, it's obviously here." He raised an eyebrow at Sam, who raised one back in return.

"Obviousl- look out!" Sam said, hands automatically grasping the car anyway he could.

At his brother's exclamation, Dean looked back to the road (he'd only glanced away, how quickly could something have appeared there?) and saw a very familiar figure standing in the middle of the street.  _Castiel_. By instinct Dean swerved, and ended up running his precious Baby into the town sign he'd just been observing.

Well, that had not been Castiel's intention. He had to let them know that going beyond that point would render them invisible to him, as the entire area had basically been wiped of the map almost three decades previous. He rushed to the car, his friends now in need, and opened the drivers side door.

The boys were both unconscious, and Sam looked the worse for wear. Dean was unharmed, except perhaps a slight concussion. Cas reached his hand out and placed it to the hunter's temple, only to find his power would not heal him or awaken him.  _We must be too close_ , he surmised, looking up at the sign for the invisible town. He squinted his eyes in dislike at it, before teleporting to the nearest human life form he could find.

* * *

There were so many things in Neal's life that he'd done wrong; thievery, leaving Emma, been pretty much a horrible person. But the little person that hiked beside him through the woods, his son, was something that had turned out so right. He still had a hard time believing that he had a kid sometimes, since he'd only just met him, but he'd instantly fallen in love with the kid. It was difficult to not let Henry dig his way into your life.

"Are you at the age you like girls yet?" Neal asked as the two walked along, their father and son hike accompanied by lame, parental 'get to know you' questions.

Henry snorted in response. "I'm _eleven_. I don't even have a chest hair yet." He gave his dad a grin. "But they don't have cooties."

"Yeah, yeah," Neal chuckled, ruffling Henry's hair a bit. He looked back up the hiking trail, startled to see a man in a tab trench coat a few yards away from them, seemingly out of nowhere. The man looked confused, disoriented; perhaps he was lost? And where had he come from? "Hey, buddy, you lost?" He gripped Henry subtlely, making sure that he was relatively close in case he needed to grab him and run. With his background, you never could be too cautious.

The stranger turned his startlingly blue eyes toward the pair, their gaze slightly squinting as he took them in. "I am in dire need of your assistance," he started, rather formal sounding. "My friends have been in a car accident on the main road and are unconscious."

Henry jumped out of his father's grasp and began tugging on his arm. "That's not that far! Come on, we have to help them!"

"Henry," Neal said, tugging back against his son and glancing at the newcomer. "Just a sec, we'll call Emma." He looked over the man, not sure if he should trust him. But really, what harm was there in just seeing if there actually had been an accident? It wouldn't be the first time. ...Just the second.

The stranger's face fell. "Please, I am not lying," he said, as though he knew exactly what was going through Neal's head.

Neal looked down at Henry, then sighed, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, and starting to walk in the right direction. "Hey, Emma..."

* * *

The spread laid out on the table was definitely fit for a king. Roast goose, potatoes, bacon, and then the sweets, oh my, the sweets; cakes, tarts, puddings, so many flavors. And the pies! Gabriel chuckled to himself at that one, thinking of how jealous the eldest Winchester boy would be.

He tucked in, gorging himself in Trickster fashion, on the closest cake, a delicious looking chocolate. Being an angel, he had the fortune of not getting a stomach ache from so many sugary things, and thusly continued on, to a strawberry angel food cake (giggling the entire time) and then to the pumpkin pie.

It was then that he noticed something about his over-hospitable host. The woman just sat and watched him, a sly smirk trying to hide on the corner of her lips like a secret. Not a drop of food had passed those lips the entire time, and there was enough for an army.

_That bitch._

It had taken no time at all for Gabriel to figure out what was going on. How dare she use him, after he willingly helped her build this very house! She was planning on fattening him up like one of those children she loved so much, and then cooking him like that unfortunate goose that sat on the table. He had no objection about the whole stuffing-and-eating-children thing, that was already written in fables and thus was so obviously true. But there was no way in hell she was eating him.

He began to laugh into his pie, the fork he held hanging limply between his fingers before dropping to the nearly empty pie plate with a clang. He placed his head in his hands, and his laughter grew louder, building into quite a roar of mirth. It was unsettling the witch, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat across the room. She stood and took a few steps toward him. "What do you find so funny, darling?" She asked in a tone that betrayed her concern. Concern for herself.

His attitude changed in an instant. One second he was laughing into a plate, the next he was standing, facing her, his chair clattering to the floor loudly, his eyes and expression gone harsh. "Oh, nothing," he snarled in response to her question. "Just you." His nose wrinkled in detestation. "You  _dare_. You  _dare_  betray me? I helped you build this place, and then you try to fatten me up like a  _pig_?"

Lightning began to flash outside, a mirror of his rage. As she watched, she grew more scared, of just how powerful this man actually was. Perhaps he was the Dark One! She had no idea what she had tampered with, she should have just enjoyed normal, boring food with him, not attempted to eat him... But he looked so delicious at the time. A mistake she was sure to pay for. She could not tear her eyes away, and he was beginning to glow, his fury burning through his eyes, barely contained under his skin. She cowered, shrinking to the floor, arms wrapped around herself.

It was deafening, the sound that radiated from him, so loud that glasses that sat on the overladen table began to shatter. She covered her ears, but she could still hear the ringing. And her eyes... Her eyes began to bleed, her vision went dark, and her cries of anguish only added to the cacophony of sound screaming through the room.

And then it stopped.

The echoes of the shrieking noises still resonated in her head, and her cries had weakened to a dull, aching sob, her throat raw with pain. And her eyes... Her eyes would never see again.

She flinched when she felt someone - him - touch her shoulder, but she dared not shrink away. "You've been touched by an angel, bitch," he said, and then his footsteps faded away.

* * *

"Dean."

His head was throbbing, he did not want to open his eyes, it did not sound good. Were those sirens?

"Dean, wake up."

_Fine_ , he thought, making his eyes open. Those sirens were getting closer. What was going on? His sight was blurry, but it was clearing up quickly. He was confused for a moment, not remembering what had happened, until he looked up and the Storybrooke sign came into focus.

Grabbing onto the nearest person, who he was pretty sure was Cas at this point, Dean pulled himself unsteadily from the car as the ambulance - the blasted sirens - arrived at the scene. He blinked a lot, his vision still not perfect yet, and before he knew it he was being ushered over to the ambulance to be checked out. "Don't bother, I'm fine, I've had worse than a friggin' concussion before, this is cake," he protested to the paramedic.

His eyes raked over the scene, since he was being forced to sit still he might as well make sure he knew the surroundings. Cas stood nearby, looking even more confused than usual, and nearby him, closer to the ambulance than his Baby, was a cluster of people. A blonde woman in a red leather jacket (whose bottom he took a split second to appreciate) facing the car and thusly he could not see her face, a guy around his own age, and a kid, looking at the scene with concern. Besides them, there were just the paramedics, now trying to get Sammy out of the Impala.

Dean clenched his jaw a few times in frustration. This was not how their town entrance was supposed to go. Then again, the town was also supposed to have been much more difficult to find.

Continuing to watch the people, he decided to study the trio that stood a few yards away. The kid obviously belonged to the man, the way his hand was perched on the boy's shoulder so protectively. He couldn't read the woman's face, since she faced the opposite direction, but her pose, hands on her hips, so clearly mapping out the scene in her head as she scanned the area, screamed out 'authority'. Probably police.

Cas was still just staring at the car, looking at it solemnly. "Cas," Dean called out, ignoring the paramedic that bothered him with blankets and flashing a flashlight in his eyes. "What the hell?"

Cas approached, his eyes seemingly stuck in a permanent squint. "I am sorry I made you crash," he said, tactfully low so that the paramedic would not overhear. Hey, he'd actually learned something useful. "I just needed to warn you that this area is virtually invisible to us," he continued, "us" being the heavenly host. "This place has magic that is foreign to this world. It is cloaked and tampers with my 'mojo.'"

"Cas, why do you think we're here?" Dean asked, working hard to keep the growl from his voice.

"I had assumed you were lost."

The hunter gave him a bitch-face, then sighed. "We're on a case, Sherlock."

"I do not like it here," Cas said, looking around with his ever-narrowed eyes. "My power is not at it's fullest, the magic is definitely making me unable to heal you. And I could not identify who I was traveling toward when 'teleporting.'" He made air quites as he looked back to Dean. "I need to investigate as well."

"Cas, stay here for now-" Dean started, but was cut off by the paramedic that was babying him standing in between the hunter and angel. Once again, the man started double checking Dean's head for further injury. "Dude, come on, it's a friggin' concussion, not the end of the world." He pushed the guy to the side to finish his sentence for Cas, but the angel had already vanished. "Son of a bitch," he growled, crossing his arms moodily.

Sammy was being loaded onto a gurney, and finally Dean got some peace as his own personal paramedic buddy left him alone. The solitude only lasted for a moment before the happy trio he'd been watching minutes earlier approached him. "Howdy, Sheriff," he said, quickly taking note of the badge on the woman's belt. He raised an eyebrow and put on his best flirtatious smile; charming the ladies was usually the easiest thing for him. This sheriff was not one of the usuals.

"Howdy," she replied, the word full of sarcasm.

The kid looked up at her hopefully, and at just a glance from her, he turned and smiled at Dean. "Are you okay, mister? Your weird friend found us on a hike and we called my mom for help."

He couldn't help but grin; though you wouldn't know it by looking at the tough exterior of the hunter, Dean had a soft spot for kids. "Well, I definitely appreciate it, kid. I'm sure my brother will too, when he wakes up."

"Alright, come on, Henry," the man said, ushering his son away. Henry, the kid, frowned, but allowed himself to be steered away.

Dean turned his attention back to the sheriff. "Mom?" he asked, an eyebrow quirks in question. "You don't look old enough to have a kid his age."

She replied with a dry, fake chuckle. "Yeah, well..." She shrugged, then crossed her arms across her chest. "Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"

Great, the procedural police rhetoric. "Go ahead, shoot."

"What were you and your boyfriend there," she motioned to the gurney that was now rolling their way, "doing to make you crash?"

_Why do people always assume_...? "That's my brother," he nearly growled.

A smirk crossed the sheriff's lips. "Sorry." The turn of her lips vanished. "Okay, you and your brother. And the other guy-" She stopped, realizing she had no idea where Castiel had gone. "-wherever he went." Her eyebrows furrowed.

Dean opened his mouth, preparing a lie on the spot, but they were ushered out of the way by the paramedics as they wheeled Sam into the ambulance behind Dean. "Excuse us," one of them had the decency to say.

"Look, we need to get my brother to the hospital, so can we finish this up later?" Dean asked, climbing into the back of the vehicle and hunkering down next to the gurney.

"You can count on it," the sheriff said, and then the doors were closed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! We hope you're enjoying our little crack baby here!  
> Thank you to everyone who has read and followed -we've had over 300 hits on ff.net!! Please leave a review if you've enjoyed, or even to give us some constructive criticism! We love reviews!
> 
> Not Surprising Disclaimer: WE DO NOT OWN SPN OR OUAT. Thank you.
> 
> Chapter Song: It's Not Me It's You by Skillet


	3. The Dark One

_"All our secrets they are tailored trouble / Draped loose now around your hips" -Taking Back Sunday_

 

The candy cottage was left behind, Gabriel getting out of Dodge as quickly as possible, angelically invisible, a relatively light spring in his step. He had made history. Or mythology. Or whatever it was. Sure, he'd hit a snag along the way, but nothing comes without a catch.

He had walked for maybe five miles, the sun sinking further and further into the dark, when he heard what sounded like a twig snapping. Gabriel turned to face the sound, waiting to see who or what had made the noise. He stood staring for a minute, maybe two.

"Looking for something, dearie?" asked a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw a man in dress similar to his, but made of red and of a much finer material. His hands, which he held out in a flourish, had long, dark nails, much like claws.

Never before had someone been able to sneak behind him, and this was deeply unsettling to the angel. Just from being near him, Gabriel could feel the man's power. He was not sure who this man was, as his arch-angelic powers did not seem to work at full capacity here in this world. "Looking? Nah, just... wandering," he replied, eyeing the newcomer warily.

"Ah, I see," the man replied, his mouth curled upward into a wicked grin. "So you  _weren't_  just turning about, trying to see what made the noise, hm?" He put his fingers together, the very picture of a stereotypical Hollywood villain. "Wandering, however, seems to have led you straight to me, dearie." He bowed to Gabriel, almost sarcastically. "Coincidentally, in case you hadn't figured it out, my fine, feathered friend, I am the thing you heard go  _bump_  in the night."

A shiver ran down Gabriel's spine, which was impressive, considering his angelic status. His blood ran cold when he realized this scale-skinned stranger had said "feathered." "Excuse me?" He said, squinting at the foreign man in astonishment. "What did you just say?"

An indescribable laugh echoed in the woods, the man in red taking a step as he spoke. "Ah- ya heard me, halo boy," he said with apparent glee. He turned his hand with a flourish, setting a ball of fire ablaze in his palm, before throwing it at the forest floor. A carefully laid firepit was suddenly there, as though it was there in the first place, although it had not been.

Gabriel laughed humorlessly. "Nice parlor trick," he said, crossing his arms and glaring at the powerful, dark person across the flames.

The glow of the fire raging between them cast shadows on the surrounding trees, one form with large, black wings protruding from it, and one without. "Of course I can see your true nature," the strange man bragged, taking slow steps around the fire nearer to Gabriel. The angel did not move. "I am the Dark One! Your heavenly magicks are, well..." He was standing near to Gabriel now, and he grinned his grimy teeth at him. "Useless against me," he gloated, his irritating chuckle tacked onto the end.

Gabriel knew this already. Sure he had the powers of the heavenly host going for him, but this guy, this Dark One, could see through anything. He'd seen through his invisibility obviously enough, so it had become clear that this was no one to mess with. "So, since you obviously stopped me for a a reason, and you seem to be my Kryptonite," Gabriel said, watching the Dark One pace around him like a vulture. "What would you have me do?"

There was that nasty grin of his again. "Oh, dearie, I do think I've got just the job for you."

* * *

"He's in good hands," Emma said as she walked into the hospital waiting room, where she saw the newcomer chewing anxiously on the end of a pen, a clipboard in his other hand. "Dr. Whale will fix him up like brand new."  _Although he might have someone else's body parts, who knows?_  she thought sarcastically. "So I was hoping we could fill the time with those questions?"

The stranger turned his green eyes onto her, tapping the end of the pen against the board now, rather than having it stuck in his mouth. "I guess so," he shrugged. "But listen, lady, you have questions, we have questions." He cocked his eyebrows at her, feigning complete calm, as though she hadn't just walked in during a nervous habit. "Maybe we could do an info exchange."

This guy was smart, smarter than that pretty face let on. "Depends on the questions, but I'll bite," she said, sitting across the aisle from him and crossing her arms. "How about a name, for starters? I'll even go first; Emma Swan. See, it's easy as pie."

The man snorted, as though pie was funny to him for some reason. "Preston Whitmore," he said, glancing at her before returning to filling out his brother's paperwork on the clipboard.

Emma opened her mouth to ask his brothers name and continue their conversation, when Henry ran in the room and practically threw himself into the chair next to hers. "David says Mary Margaret is still in bed," he said, tossing his backpack into the next seat over. "I was gonna go hang out with Neal some more, but I wanted to meet these guys," he motioned toward "Preston." Emma had the feeling the guy was lying through his teeth about that name.

"Henry-"

"Hi," Henry said, now turned toward the man. He was smiling attractively back at her son, and she could see easily that this guy was completely used to charming most people. Good thing she wasn't most people. "I'm Henry. Don't mind my mom, she can be a bit intimidating when she's in cop mode," Henry joked.

"Eh, I don't mind it so much," Preston said with a kind grin. It was clear that he liked kids, that much was not a lie. He wasn't just putting on a fake smile, his kindness toward Henry was genuine. It warmed her toward him just a little. "Nice to meet you, Henry, I'm Preston Whitmore. You seem like a cool dude, maybe you can show me around town later. You know," he looked up at Emma with a smile, his eyebrows perked. "If she comes with. Don't want her thinking I'm a creep or anything."

Emma bit the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. This guy sure could lay on the charm, alright. "Surely," she said, giving a small nod. "We'll show you around a bit, since you're obviously gonna be here a while. Your brother isn't getting out of this place anytime soon, with those injuries."

"Milo," Preston said. "My brother - Milo Thatch." He was tapping the end of his pen against the board again. "Well, half brother. Obviously. Figured your next question was gonna be about him, right?"

"Maybe," she said, her lips turned up slightly at the corners. "Okay, Preston, what are you guys doing up here anyway? We don't get many tourists."

Preston shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. "We're bloggers, actually. We investigate weird police cold cases and get the scoop about them from the source, then write it all up." He shrugged. "It's a labor of love, really. There ain't much money to be made in it."

All the warning bells were ringing in Emma's head from that line of crap, but she didn't betray it in her expression. She would get down to the truth eventually.

"Speaking of that, though," Preston continued, leaning forward, his elbows perched on his knees. "Our cold case happened to bring us to your quaint little town here."

"Oh really," Emma said, an eyebrow quirked in question. "Maybe I can help out."

"I sure hope so. Wouldn't want this trip to be a waste." He smiled charmingly at her. "So this kid, back in like, '83 or so, says he's camping with his dad up here in Maine. Strange electrical storm goes down, and in the morning, bam! They're smack in the middle of this town. Like someone 'dropped a town on 'em.'" Emma could tell that he was quoting some article or another.

"Sounds like a wild story," Emma said, nodding her head. Henry glanced at her out the corner of his eye.

"But wait, there's more," Preston said, his grin still present. Emma was slightly pleased to see that he was calmed down and distracted from the fact his brother was currently undergoing surgery. "So they meet the mayor, and the kid says she wants to keep him so much that when they go to leave the next day, she has his dad arrested. The kid runs away, gets to the next nearest town, but when he and the police return, there's nothing. No one ever heard of Storybrooke, it ain't on any maps, and the whole town just up and vanished."

Staring in disbelief at him, wondering how so much of that actually got out like that, Emma's head was reeling. She had no idea that something like that had happened. She decided to play the ignorance card. "Really? That's the story?" She laughed, a hollow, false chuckle. "Well, as you can see, the town  _does_  actually exist, so-"

"But it's not on any maps."

"Excuse me?"

He stared at her as though he held a winning hand in poker, a smirk on his face. "Storybrooke. It's not on any map, anywhere. Not even Google." He cocked his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "We even asked for directions from the next town over. It's a bit far, but you'd think that someone would have known about Storybrooke and how to get here, right?"

"Unfortunately, I don't know anything about that, since I was a baby then, and I haven't heard about it," Emma said, eyebrows furrowed. She made a mental note to ask Regina about it the next chance she got. "Sorry I can't be more help."

"No worries. I'll just ask around, see what I can dig up."

Standing up, Emma nodded distractedly. She was going to have to do some serious damage control while these brothers were in town. And where was that third guy? "I suggest finding your friend and getting a room at Granny's inn when I come back, okay? Dr. Whale's gonna call me when surgery is done, and then we can give you that tour." She looked at her son. "Right, Henry?"

"Yeah, and we can get some cocoa at the diner," Henry said in a friendly tone. "See you."

"Yeah, see ya then, kid," Preston replied, and then mother and son left the room.

When they were in the elevator, Henry spoke up. "I like him, but those names were fake."

Startled, Emma looked down at him. "What makes you say that? I mean, my 'super power' was going off like crazy, but how did you-"

"The names were easy," Henry said, a proud smile up at his mom. "Milo Thatch and Preston Whitmore are characters from Disney's  _Atlantis_."

* * *

"A job," Gabriel repeated, looking incredulously at the Dark One. He was still doing that irritating pace in front of the crackling fire, and there was nothing Gabriel would have liked more than to crack him over the head with a baseball bat.

"One of great importance. You, my angelic amigo, are going to go into another world for me, since I am unable to leave here for lengthy stays," the slimy man said, one of his annoying chuckles at the end. "I am in search of my son, and it seems as though a treasure hunter has fallen right into my lap."

Gabriel squinted his eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"You know how to fly... Under the radar, I think the term is where you're from. I don't know exactly which world he's currently in, so you're going to stake them out one by one until he's found."

"Sounds thrilling."

"I don't care how you do it, Wingy, but you're going to do it."

"And I have zero choice in the matter."

"Ah- bingo." The Dark One put a fingertip to his nose, then lowered it again.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do this?"

"Well, I noticed you have a thing for candy, dearie. I'm sure tracking down children should be a piece of cake."

A faint inkling of an idea started to form in Gabriel's mind. "Aw, come on, really?"

"Rumplestiltskin does not joke."

"Your penchant for puns would suggest otherwise."

The Dark One smirked grimly at him. "You think you're above me because you're an angel. Well, you aren't the one  _holding all the cards now, are you_?" He steadily grew louder with every word until he was shouting. He quieted down to continue, "If you do not do this, I will tell your holy brethren where you are! I have the feeling that's something you wouldn't want, am I right, dearie?"

This shut Gabriel right up. He was right on the money. And he doubted that this Rumplestiltskin was bluffing. He paused, mulling everything over in his head. After a long, agonizing pause, he finally came to a conclusion.

" _Fine_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again darlings! Another chapter is here! Not as long as the last one, and it certainly took longer, and we apologize for that, but come on, we're busy people! Thank you for being so patient with us!
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS AND BOOKMARKS! EVERY EMAIL NOTIFICATION PUTS BIG GRINS ON OUR FACES!
> 
> We're going to be adding a Chapter Song at the end of each new addition from now on (and adding them onto previous chapters, so check those out!) so it will effectively act as the story soundtrack! Huzzah music!
> 
> Disclaimer: WE OWNETH NOT THE THINGS.
> 
> Chapter Song: Liar (It Takes One To Know One) by Taking Back Sunday


	4. The Devil You Know

  
_"Here come the man / With the look in his eye / Fed on nothing / But full of pride" -INXS_  

 

_Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam._

Ugh, what the hell is that?

_Sammy. Sammy. Sammy. Sammy._

Seriously?

_Moose. Moose. Moose. Moose._

Jesus Christ. Fine, I'll open my freaking eyes.

" _Sasquatch. Sasquatch. Sasquatch_ \- Oh hey! Sleeping Beauty has finally opened his pretty peepers!"

Sam squinted against the harsh white light of the room, made all the more painful by the boring paint scheme and the irritating voice rattling around in his head. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that voice had belonged to-

"Saaaaaaaaamy," Lucifer said, wiggling his fingers and getting Sam's attention. Sam jumped where he lay and scrambled as well as he could to the side of the bed furthest from the man currently seated in the visitor's chair. As though someone flicked a switch, the room was suddenly thrown into a negative version of itself; dingy, dirty, chains and meat hooks dangling from the ceiling. All the while, Lucifer sat pleasantly in his chair, grinning wickedly. "Hi, Sam. Long time, no spooning."

Terror was written clearly all over Sam's face, and his hand gripped the hospital bed rail tightly. He wished he could sit up better than he could, but his middle was bandaged and extremely sore, making it difficult to even just lean forward. He was still far too close to him for comfort. "You're not here. You're in Hell."

A smirk was the response. "Now, that you're right on."

Sam's eyes darted around the room before stopping again on Lucifer. "Meat hooks... Chains... You. It's not real," he gasped desperately. "It's just my brain leaking memories from the cage 'cause of the wall breaking down. That's all."

Lucifer made a fake pout at him. "Hmm. That's very good, your little theory." His expression evolved into a smirk. "But it's wrong. Sam, this isn't you going guano." The smirk grew more wicked. "Everything else is."

Staring back in disbelief, Sam whispered a hollow, "What?"

Lucifer waved his hand absently at the surroundings. "Everything... From the second you sprung out of that lock box."

Sam shook his head slIghtly. "That's impossible."

"No," Lucifer said, his eyebrows furrowed, looking at Sam with an expression of pity. "Escaping was impossible." He smiled evilly at him again. "I have to say, I think this is my best torture yet - make you believe that you're free and then..." He made a snatching movement in the air with his hand. "Yank the wool off of your eyes. You never left, Sam. You're still in the cage..."  _That damned grin._  "With me."

Sam's heart was beating a mile a minute, and his hand gripped the bed rail as hard as he could. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the terror of hell that sat before him. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

"Oh good, you're awake," a female voice said from the vicinity of the doorway.

Suddenly the room was back to normal, as if Satan himself hadn't just been seated in that very chair. Sam blinked, and he watched the woman come into the room anxiously.

"You're in the hospital," she said in answer to his unasked question. He had actually been watching for Lucifer to pop up randomly again, but luckily it didn't seem he was going to. "My name is Dorothy, and I'm a volunteer here. I'm here to make your stay comfortable."

He now dropped his eyes to look at her, as he'd been taking in the room, expecting for the bastard to reappear. She was cute, really pretty actually, with brown hair tied into a loose ponytail, and blue eyes. "Uh, hi," he said awkwardly.

"Now, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask, okay? I'm here to get you food, water, whatever," Dorothy said, a smile on her face.

 _Can you make Lucifer go away?_  Somehow he didn't think that question would fly very smoothly. He was still reeling from what Lucifer said; was he really still in hell and  _this_  was all a dream?

* * *

The front of the pawn shop looked just as innocent as every other building in this town, but there was something about it that had drawn Castiel to it. He'd investigated what magic he had been able to, which wasn't much, as the spell on this place was very adept at hiding itself apparently, and after recognizing a signature deep within the magic, he'd followed it here.  _Mr. Gold Pawnbroker_.

The feeling he could not shake was that he'd encountered this particular signature before. He could not figure out why the sensation of it seemed so familiar to him, but he was determined to find out.

A bell sounded above the door as Castiel walked inside, and he was taken aback by the sheer amount of magical items all over the shop. It was like a cornucopia of enchanted wares. He clenched his jaw as he turned to look at the various objects in the room; a couple of puppets on the counter, a rack of decorative pieces of wood that were more than likely magic wands, a pair of ruby slippers, and a good assortment of swords were among the throng.

It was when he turned around again that a man came through a curtain that separated the back of the shop from the actual retail area. This was the man who had his "scent" all over this town, his magical signature. And suddenly it became clear to Castiel why the aura had seemed so familiar to him.

"Rumplestiltskin," he said, his voice low and dark.

* * *

This Dorothy girl was not hard to like, and Sam found himself grinning more than he had in a long time. In fact, she was so likable that somehow he'd forgotten about the strange vision of Lucifer he'd seen earlier. Until he was left alone, that is.

Dorothy had to leave to help out with other patients, so Sam busied himself with a book of Sudoku puzzles that she'd left for him. He was halfway through a level four puzzle when there was an arm thrown around his neck from behind the bed.

Struggling against the strong grasp, he whimpered as Lucifer came out from behind the bed, his hand still clutching Sam's throat. Sam let out a cough, growling the words, "You're not real."

This vision of Lucifer (Sam refused to believe anything that this guy told him until he saw proof) made a face to convey pity at the waylaid Winchester. "Right. You think this fruit-bat fever dream is reality? You come back, I'm sorry, with no soul like some peppy American Psycho, till Saint Dean glues you back together again by buying you some magic amnesia. You're real. I'm very real. Everything between is what we call set dressing."

"No." One word, simple enough, with all the venom Sam could muster.

A smirk immediately curled Lucifer's lips, barely visible in the corner of Sam's eye. "You're still in my cell. You're my bunkmate, buddy. You're my little bitch, in every sense of the term."

"Sam?"

He continued to try to shrink away from this hallucination Lucifer, very poorly considering the stitches on his body and arms.

"Sam! You hearing me?" Dean hit his hand against his brother's chest, shaking him to try waking him from whatever nightmare was going on in there. "Sam!"

The younger Winchester suddenly opened his eyes, darting up in his bed the best he could with a bandaged midsection, looking around the room as though something was going to kill him. Dean, in response to his brothers sudden movement, stepped back to avoid getting whacked in the face by the flailing Sasquatch, who was also muttering quite loudly about Lucifer.

"Whoa. Look at me," the elder brother coaxed, his eyebrows creased with concern. "Hey... All right, we got to button this up..." he calmed him, finally getting Sam to stop his loud moans. When he was sure Sam was completely lucid again, Dean relaxed into the visitor's chair. "You done, Linda Blair?"

Sam stared back at him in disbelief. "I'm not possessed, jerk."

"Well, you're sure acting like it, bitch," Dean replied in a teasing tone, although Sam could hear the concern hidden in it. "Anyway, it's good to see you awake. You've been out for hours."

"Actually, I've been talking to my caretaker for at least an hour now, Dean," Sam pointed out.

"You sly dog, you," Dean joked.

"Shut up. What have you been doing other than not noticing I was awake?"

Dean shrugged and sat back in the chair. "I took care of the initial police shit, for starters. By the way, you did remember the aliases we agreed on, right?"

"Yes, Preston," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Good. Moving on, I'll be going out on a tour later with the Sheriff whenever she gets here, her kid wanted to show me around a bit."

"And you're gonna ask the people around town about the weird thing, right?"

Dean gave him a bitch-face in response. "No, I was just gonna play tourist the whole time. What am I, a moron?"

"It could be debated," Sam smirked.

"Ha ha," Dean said, his turn to roll his eyes.

"Knock knock," came a voice at the door, accompanied by a tapping of knuckles on the doorframe. Dean turned in his chair, while Sam raised his eyes to see Emma stroll in. "Sorry to interrupt, but Henry is anxious, he's out in the waiting room, and-"

She stopped as she was looking at the younger Winchester, and Dean noticed her eyebrows furrow as she took him in. "I'm sorry, have we met?" She took a step closer to where he lay. "You look familiar, but I can't place..."

Now it was Sam's turn to look confused. "Uh, I don't think so?" He answered, but he started to really take her in, trying to figure out where he might know her from. "I mean, I'm pretty good with faces, but-"

Watching the exchange, Dean just bit his lip, not wanting to stem the flow of their conversation, but silently praying that she didn't actually know him. He noticed the look of realization cross Emma's face the second she thought she knew who his brother was. "Sam Winchester?"

Well, crap.

"Uh..." Sam looked to Dean, not knowing what was happening. "No, my name is Milo Tha-"

"Oh, can it, I know you Disney movie'd those names, okay?" Her eyebrows were creased in growing disbelief and anger at the brothers. "You don't remember me, do you," she said, clearly speaking to Sam at this point, her hand placed on her hip in a challenging manner. "High school, freshman year? You were only there for a semester, but we were friends."

Something about that attitude must have made something click in Sam's memory, because suddenly an expression of recognition came over his face. "Emma? Emma Swan?"

"Oh great, you know each other?" Dean groaned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "That's what we need, a friggin' high school reunion."

"But... What are you doing here?" Sam asked, ignoring his brother efficiently. Dean just huffed and watched their carefully concocted story fall apart as the conversation continued.

"I should be asking you, seeing as I'm the sheriff here," Emma said, raising an eyebrow at the bedridden Winchester. "And not any of this bull about being a blogger. I know for a fact that you would have never stooped to that, not with your dad being a big game hunter." She dragged another chair over. "Go on. I've got time. Oh, and I'll be able to tell if you're lying, so..." She shrugged and sat back, donning the same pose as Dean, but with an expression of disappointed expectancy.

With a sigh, Sam looked to Dean. "God damn it," Dean groaned, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Fine. Fine. She's got us by the short and curlies." He looked at Emma, pointing at her with his eyebrows furrowed. "But it ain't our fault if you don't believe us." He nodded at Sam. "Go ahead, Sammy. I'm gonna go talk to the pipsqueak." Emma was about to protest when Dean cut her off. "He's gotta know anyway, right? I'll give him the kid-friendly version."

As Dean walked out the door, Emma turned to Sam with a questioning look on her face. "Kid-friendly?" She sighed, then settled herself in for story time. "I'm guessing this story might take a while. And here all I was prepared for was taking your brother for a tour."

"Yeah, it's a bit... On the long side," Sam said with a nervous chuckle.

A summary of the past few years threw Emma for a loop. She'd expected something ridiculous, like they had planned on stealing something from the mystical vanishing city of Storybrooke or something, but she got something far more intense than anything she could imagine. Sam talked about demons, ghosts, werewolves, and vampires. Angels. Michael. Lucifer. Purgatory. It was terrifying.

And not a single word set off her mental warning bells.

"So..." Sam said, looking at her and waiting for a verdict.

"So." Emma was dumbfounded. Here she was thinking she was having one hell of a year with fairy tales and creatures being real, and these boys were out fighting demons and angels on an almost daily basis. And they just wanted to know about the town, right? Nothing weird and freaky, and besides, she didn't know anything about the boy and his dad. "I guess it's only fair for me to tell you about Storybrooke-"

"Emma!"

Turning to see Henry racing into the room and throwing himself in the empty chair, Emma bit her lip. "How'd it go?" She asked her son, giving him a little smile.

"Great! These guys are heroes, you know?" Henry beamed. "So lets go take the tour, already! Dean said he'd buy us dinner!"

"I did say that," Dean pointed out from where he leaned on the doorframe.

"Bookmark this conversation?" Emma asked Sam, standing from the uncomfortable visitor's chair and giving a tiny stretch to her back. She patted Sam's unbandaged arm, gave him a weak smile, then turned toward the other two. "I'll send Dorothy up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: The Devil Inside by INXS
> 
> Authors' Note: HELLO AGAIN LOVELIES! It's been a while since our last update, but finally, IT ARRIVES! I hope it doesn't feel too rushed... But GASP! EMMA AND SAM KNOW EACH OTHER! So our sheriff knows all about our boys and their hunter lives, but what about the secrets Storybrooke holds? Will they learn it from her or will they have to discover the story on their own? AND YES, THE MYSTERIES SURROUNDING RUMP AND CAS AND GABRIEL KEEP GROWING! And yes, the dialogue between Lucifer and Sam IS the exact lines from 7.01. Carry on.
> 
> Anyway, we hope you enjoyed our latest chapter. We already have the next started, but as we work out kinks in our plot and in our real lives, please do be patient. We love every one of you! Favorites, reviews, comments, kudos, EVERYTHING MAKES US FEEL SO GOOD! :3 Peace out, bitches!


	5. Frowned Upon In Most Societies

_"People are strange when you're a stranger / Faces look ugly when you're alone" -The Doors_

 

"Rumpelstiltskin."

The man looked up as he came through the curtain, pausing at the sight of the trench coated visitor. His face split into a grin. "Ah." He pursed his lips and studied the angel, an eyebrow quirked. "Castiel. Pleasure meeting you again." Mr. Gold took a step towards one of the display cases. "What purpose do you have here in Storybrooke, I wonder?"

Castiel squinted at the man, as was his habit to do when he was confronted with a curiosity. "I would wonder the same thing. Last we met you were in the Enchanted Forest."

Mr. Gold chuckled. "That I was, dearie. And as I recall, you were in quite a spot of trouble. How did that pan out for you?"

His eyebrows furrowed at the question. He was not there to talk about himself. "It is in progress, but I do not see how it is any of your business."

"So time has passed very differently for you than it has for me, then," Gold surmised. "That was centuries ago, my friend. And for you, what... Mere weeks?" The angel remained silent. "But still, I am curious as to why you are here now."

"I am helping my friends investigate this town. A case that seemed to be in their realm of expertise. Clearly it is otherwise if you are involved."

"And why is that?"

"Your magic comes from another world. They are not equipped to deal with your measure of magic."

"They deal with magic on a regular basis?" Gold asked, growing more curious about these "friends" of his.

"Like I said, yours is not the likes of any they've seen." Castiel sighed. "I must go tell them of what I have learned.

"On the contrary," Gold said, stepping closer to the angel. "You're not going anywhere." He nodded subtly toward the door and Castiel watched as an angel warding symbol carved itself into the wood. "I believe it's best that the outsiders don't learn about us. Don't make me get the holy oil, Castiel." He made his way to the door, opening it and turning back to face the now trapped angel. "Now stay here, I've an errand to run." And with that, the door closed, leaving Castiel alone in the shop.

* * *

Standing silently in the large factory and taking in the sweet scent, Gabriel watched as candy bars went rolling down the many conveyor belts to where those in his employ were wrapping them up in an excellent rhythm. A smile appeared on the angel's face as he turned and snapped his fingers at one of the bars as it rode past.

After this display, there lay what appeared to be a golden sheet of paper laying on top of the delicacy. The smile grew wider as the angel snapped at a few more candies, making more of the papers appear.

"Alright, boys, you know the drill. Wrap 'em up!" he said, giving a little twirl of his finger in the air. He chuckled to himself; his plan was finally, after many years of work, coming together perfectly.

Another chuckle, which was more of a giddy laugh, joined his. Gabriel turned, startled, to see Rumpelstiltskin sitting on a nonfunctional conveyor belt a few rows down. With a defeated sigh, he walked over to see what the Dark One had to say.

"Having fun, are we dearie?" The scaly man asked as he leaped off his makeshift seat.

"I am, but I'm also doing that which you have told me."

"I'm not so certain of that!" Rumpelstiltskin said. "Surely it doesn't take years in order to look through this world!"

It was not often that the Dark One was ignorant of what was going on, to which Gabriel let out a small laugh at his employer.

"On the contrary, I have made myself well known in this world so I may do my search; part of my master plan, you see." He flicked his wrist, and a golden ticket appeared in his hand, pinched between his thumb and forefinger in display for the Dark One to see. "Make the children come to me. One of these five golden tickets is enchanted to find Baelfire - should he be in this world. If he isn't, it will go to the child who needs it most." Another flamboyant wave and the ticket vanished. "Besides, if I take too long, lucky me, I can just go back in time again to start on the next realm."

"You do have a point," Rumpelstiltskin said, raising an eyebrow. "This plan is quite intriguing," he continued, pacing the area between the conveyor belts. "Alright then, carry on. But I will be waiting to hear of your progress." With that, the Dark One vanished, leaving Gabriel alone with his workers.

A sigh escaped Gabriel's lips, and then he grinned out at the factory, watching his little minions do as they always had since he'd created them. "You know you only exist because you're in the book, right?" He asked to no one in particular, the nearest of the small people giving him a confused look before going back to work. "Of course you don't," he grumbled, flopping down onto the conveyor belt the Dark One had just vacated. "I wonder... Did I copy the book, or did the book copy me? Chicken or the egg, huh, my little Oompa Loompas?"

* * *

The looks the natives were giving Dean were starting to freak him out, and he had a tough hide. "They always this friendly?" He grumbled, hiking a thumb at a grumpy guy as he walked the other direction past them as they headed toward the local diner.

Emma smiled and rolled her eyes. "They aren't used to outsiders."

Turning toward her as they walked, Dean quirked an eyebrow at her. "And why is that?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but Henry spoke instead, "Hey, why don't we go get some candy?" He asked as they stepped in front of a storefront touting sugary treats. The sign that swung above the sidewalk read  _Sugar Rush._

"We're on our way to have dinner-" Emma started to protest, before Dean went ahead and veered into the candy shop. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes yet again, she followed, noticing the grin on her son's face. "You're still going to clear your plate at Granny's, you hear me?"

"Mom, I always eat everything," Henry laughed as the bell above the door tinkled at their entrance.

No one was immediately in sight when they walked in; a sign on the counter said "Be right back!" so the trio started to look around at the gigantic assortment of sweets. Jars filled with gum balls, lollipops, taffy, gummies, anything they could think of. One wall had a row of containers with spouts at the bottom, filled with each color M&M, and a large assortment of giant candy bars on shelves. "I love this place," Henry said.

"I can see why," Dean chuckled.

The adults turned toward the door in the back of the room when it swung open, a short man laden with a stack of boxes coming through backwards. The tower of boxes he held was tall, and when he turned toward them, his face was obscured. "Just a sec, I'll be right with you," he said, muffled by the cardboard in his face.

"No problem," Emma said, a glance at Dean hiding a smirk on her lips. Dean grinned back, secretly harboring a wish that he would topple over and the boxes would fall. It was twisted, what he found amusing, but whatever, he couldn't help it.

The man disappeared behind one of the counters that was laden with display boxes, bending down to set the boxes in front of their corresponding shelf. After that was taken care of, he straightened up again, hit his hands together as though he was dusting them off, and muttered, "There we go," before turning to face the hunter and sheriff.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean sputtered, unable to refrain the exclamation as he recognized the candy man.

"Oh crap," Gabriel said, his shoulders slumping.

* * *

The history between Castiel and Rumpelstiltskin started, just as the Dark One has said, "centuries ago, but mere weeks." Castiel had been in a bind, as he was working in secret with Crowley to find a way to open Purgatory, but hiding it from Dean and Sam. In an attempt to justify his actions, he had gone to a quiet, hidden place to pray to God, tell him of all his sins, plans, and to ask for a hint of what to do next. He had gone to the Enchanted Forest, a place where solitude was easy to find.

"So, that's everything. I believe it's what you would call a...Tragedy from the human perspective. But maybe the human perspective is...Limited. I don't know. That's why I'm asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me...A sign. Give me a sign. Because if you don't...I'm gonna ju- I'm gonna do whatever I... Whatever I must."

"What a lovely sentiment," a giddy voice rang out behind him.

Standing, Castiel turned to see a man with dark, mottled looking skin wearing a dark set of clothing, his eyes unnatural and terrifying. "Who are you?"

"Me?" The dark one placed a hand to his chest, a chuckle escaping his throat. "I am the Dark One, dearie. Rumpelstiltskin's the name, and deals are my game."

Eyes narrowing at the stranger, Castiel frowned. Sounded like a crossroads demon to him, but this man was definitely not a demon. He was far too powerful, Castiel could feel it radiating off of him. "What did you mean, a 'lovely sentiment?'"

"Only that your prayers go unheard, m'boy. There is no God here." Rumpelstiltskin traipsed forward. "But there is me. And it sounds to me as though you're looking for something. An answer to your problems."

Castiel's eyes widened. "Can you help me? Do you know a way to do this? Because I must say I am at a loss as to-"

"Unfortunately," Rumpelstiltskin cut him off, "that is outside even my range of ability, dearie." He made a false pout at him, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly. "So sorry. But!" He held up a finger, a wicked grin on his face. "It seems to me as though listening to your pathetic little prayer to your 'father' was quite a waste of my time!"

"I never asked for you to-"

"Ah, but ya did! And I quote; 'Can you help me? Do you know a way to do this?'" He stared hard at the angel. "Now don't go weaseling out of that one. It's all there, don't you agree?"

Castiel was dumbfounded. This Dark One had tricked him into asking his help. And he had nothing to show for it. "And now you ask that I pay for your time."

"That does sum it up rather nicely," Rumpelstiltskin grinned.

* * *

"Wait, you know Gabe?" Henry asked Dean, confusion etched in the crease of his eyebrows. "That's... not possible. He's been stuck here like the others for-"

"Henry," Emma warned, not ready to go spilling all the town's secrets just yet.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, staring at the archangel incredulously. "We thought you were dead!"

Gabriel chuckled nervously. "Well, plot twist: I'm not."

"But what are you  _doing_  here?" Dean continued, slamming a hand on the counter as emphasis.

"Really, is that sort of thing necessary?" A new voice, an almost chilling female voice, sounded from the entrance as the overhead bell tinkled to sound her entrance.

Startled by the newcomer, Dean turned and placed a hand on one of his concealed weapons. This whole town was really starting to put him on edge. First, some girl Sammy knew was here, and now Gabriel? What next, Castiel knows the mayor? "Who's asking?" He snarled, unaware of just how powerful the woman he spoke to was.

Henry looked at Dean sheepishly. "That's my mom."

Dean raised a confused eyebrow. "I thought Emma-"

"She's his birth mother. I adopted him," the woman in the door stated, stepping further into the shop. "Though I don't see how that is any of your business."

"Regina, please," Emma said, a warning tone in her voice.

"What?" She asked, looking at Emma with a glance before her eyes bored into Dean. "I'm here in good faith. Just... Offering a bit of good advice to our visitor." She grinned at Dean, and he could see the malice hidden in those red lips. "The second I heard that we had some new blood in town, I knew I just had to seek you out." She held a hand out to the hunter, and he took it coldly. "Regina Mills, mayor. I suggest you and your brother keep your noses clean and move along as soon as possible, you understand?"

"Mom..." Henry groaned.

The hard grip of the woman gave Dean a boost of motivation to solve this cold case of his dad's. And from what he could recall, the article mentioned the boy escaping the mayor. He squinted his eyes at the woman. "Well, Miss Mills, I'm sure we won't have any problems."

The mayor smirked at the hunter. "We will see about that." One last look around the room and just a nod of acknowledgement to Gabriel's existence, then she left the store.

First glancing at Henry, then Emma, and finally resting on the trickster angel, Dean gave a heavy sigh. "So who's going to tell me what's going on around here?"

Gabriel stared at the counter top, then at the boxes he had abandoned in front of the shelf he now stood beside. "I'll meet you and Sam at the hospital in an hour," he relented.

* * *

Left alone once again, Sam was anxious. He kept expecting his unwelcome Hallucifer to make an appearance; luckily so far, none had come. It was twenty full minutes after Dean had left with Emma and her son that he noticed the large, leather-bound tome that sat in the visitor's chair. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Sam could not resist; he leaned over as well as he could with his bandages, and picked up the heavy book, careful not to drop the note that lay on top of it.

The piece of paper that lay atop the book had a kid's writing on it, reading, " _Sam, read this. You guys need to know the people here in town. -Henry_ "

A chuckle left Sam's lips, a small smile at the kid on his face. An eyebrow raised when he took a look at the book's cover.  _Once Upon A Time_. "Really, kid?" he said to the empty room, and he opened to a random page.

As he started thumbing through, he noticed that the stories inside were ones with which he was familiar, but twisted in ways he never could have seen coming. Little Red Riding Hood was actually a werewolf? These tales took things to all new heights. Did Henry actually believe these stories were about the people in this town? Sam started to feel sorry for him, so lost in fairy tales like that.

After a half hour of browsing through it, he looked up at the entrance of Emma and Henry, with no Dean in sight. "Where is Dean?" He asked, closing the book and setting it aside.

Emma slowed as she recognized the book. "Henry, Regina is going to kill us," she said.

"What?" Sam asked, completely confused. In a more frustrated tone he repeated himself. "Where's Dean?"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch," Emma said as she sat in one of the chairs. "He's just going to check you guys into a room at Granny's Inn, and he'll head back here." She looked at the book again. "So, what do you think of the book?"

"It's... Interesting," he said, an eyebrow raised. "But you can't possibly believe that this stuff is real, right?"

Emma and Henry exchanged a glance. "Well..."

* * *

The check in process was simple, and Dean had done it so many times, he didn't see how this would be different. He got the key and decided to stop in the diner to grab the promised food that they'd forgone in the resurgence of Gabriel, then with bag of burgers (and pie) in hand, he started back toward the hospital. He'd had every intention of making it all the way back, when he noticed a woman, short black hair, dressed in white, nervously checking her surroundings as she headed off into the woods. That didn't seem like it should be a normal occurrence.

Curiosity was just too great in this case, and Dean abandoned the burgers, handing them off to a man without giving him a second look. "Here, enjoy," he said quickly, then immediately went into stealth mode as he followed the mystery woman into the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: People Are Strange by The Doors
> 
> Author's note: Hello again! I'm glad to see that you guys are enjoying, and we would love to hear from you guys! Reviews help us, they really truly do. And if you review with questions, we will answer! Like... this one! (from fanfiction.net)
> 
> Monshroud: "Why would Magic suppress Castiel's powers? If anything, all that Magic should empower any supernatural being or force." It's the fact that the magic isn't from our world. Angelic magic is very different than the magic found in places like the Enchanted Forest, so it has an adverse affect on his powers.
> 
> Alright, we hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and we're getting to work on chapter 6 very very soon!


	6. The Curious Case Of August Booth

  _"Well I didn't tell anyone / but a bird flew by / Saw what I'd done." -Florence + The Machine_  


 

At first, Dean was thrilled to find something out of the ordinary going on. This was more his speed, the spying, tracking part of a case, those were his favorites, not the playing-FBI-agents or fake reporters or what have you that they'd been having to pull their entire time in Storybrooke. But after nearly half an hour of just watching the woman have some archery practice with an old tree, he was getting bored and wondering why he had followed her in the first place. Maybe she just didn't want her family to find out she had deadly accuracy with a bow and arrow, or she just wanted some alone time and this was her way of losing some steam. Either way, Dean was about to give up and go back to Granny's for more take out.

Just as he was about to turn from his hiding place, however, he saw some movement just past the tree the woman was taking her frustrations out on. Curious, he hunkered back down into his crouching position, watching the spot carefully. Somehow, the thing had vanished, but he could have sworn the movement was made by a piece of wood itself. But that would be ridiculous, right? Then again, angels and demons exist, so why not something like a wood nymph? He continued to watch, his eyes peeled for anything.

Moments later, the woman who continued to shoot at the tree missed the tree entirely. Dean assumed that she too had seen the thing on the other side, but he had no way of knowing unless she decided to investigate. Luckily for him, that's exactly what she did, although it looked as though she was just retrieving her arrow rather than looking into a mystery creature. But that arrow she'd shot, well, it seemed to have gone exactly where he'd seen the moving wood. Not so lucky for whatever that thing turned out to be.

Keeping in stealth mode, Dean followed the woman as she went to find her arrow, discovering it quite a few yards from where it should have landed. Not only was it in a strange place, but the tip had been broken off and was nowhere to be seen. Her curiosity was now piqued, and she began to track down the missing arrowhead and the thing whose body it was probably now embedded in. Dean's own curiosity kept growing with every step. What were they following, and why didn't he just reveal himself to the woman so they could work together to find it? The answer to the second was simple; he didn't want to be found, because who knew what sort of setbacks that might cause to their investigation of the town? But as to what they were tracking... that was the real mystery here.

A few minutes of silent tree skirting resulted in coming upon a small clearing, in which there stood an average sized travel trailer that looked like it had been in need of repair for at least a decade, maybe two. Dean stuck back for a minute as the woman approached the trailer cautiously, his eyes squinting in concentration. The whole scene reminded Dean of any horror movie ever, or maybe even just too many scenes in his own life. Something creeps around, people go investigate, and then people  _die_. He hoped this lady wouldn't be one of the dying ones; she was kinda hot.

Not even knocking, she yanked the door open, peering carefully inside. Even from his hiding place in the trees, Dean could tell this girl was nearly fearless, and that made him like her even more. When she disappeared completely inside, he made his move, hurriedly shuffling to a concealed crouch beneath one of the dingy windows. He hoped that the trailer was in such bad shape that even the windows needed some TLC and he would be able to hear whatever went on in there.

"Anyone in here?" the woman called out.

Dean hadn't expected to hear an answer, but there was one, low and belonging to a man. "Just me."

A moment passed, and Dean could only hear footsteps inside, definitely not the delicate footfalls of the woman, he'd followed her long enough today to be able to tell that much. He pulled his gun from behind his back, ready to burst in there if she was in trouble. But then he heard her surprised voice. "August?"

He continued to listen intensely, waiting for an opportune moment to peek through the window he was currently hunched underneath. More movement, some shuffling steps followed by a heavy thudding into something padded. Dean guessed they had sat down on a couch or something. Impatient after waiting so long, he poked his head up just enough so see into the dirty window. His eyebrows shot up immediately to see the girl he'd followed sitting next to  _a man made of wood._

* * *

Narrowed eyes followed the dark man as he circled around Castiel as though he were a vulture circling it's prey. "What is this payment you ask of me?" the angel asked, his eyes flashing darkly.

The strange eyes flashed back at the angel, and Castiel was disturbed deeply. Being shaken by a creature such as his was a completely new experience; never in his millennia of living had he encountered something such as this. How was it that someone of this magnitude of power could exist outside the realm of angels' knowledge? "The blade you carry," Rumpelstiltskin said, startling Castiel further. "Not your personal one, of course, but the one belonging to your fallen comrade..." He continued his incessant stride, every few paces producing a small skip. "You are going to take it to someone very important."

Jaw flexing as he processed the Dark One's words, Castiel frowned. "Uriel's blade... what use could it be to this person?"

The man stopped his pacing, now looking at the angel with a sly grin etched onto his features, his fingers brought together before him completing the look of cliche villainy. "Let's just say... I'm quite invested in it arriving in his grasp, dearie," he replied, a dark chuckle hidden in his voice.

There was no rhyme or reason to what the Dark One wanted, at least to Castiel's mind. But unfortunately, he saw no way out of this except doing his bidding - he'd tried teleporting away multiple times since he had been discovered by this Rumpelstiltskin, to no avail. "Explain," he said in a tone that clearly displayed how he felt about this.

"You must give this blade to the Dark One, of course. Ah, the first one, obviously," Rumpelstiltskin started, and Castiel opened his mouth to protest indignantly. "Ah ah!" Rumpelstiltskin tutted, wagging a finger at the angel. "No backsies, Cas," he said, and yet again Castiel was startled. When had he said his name? He kept being surprised by this being of magic; clearly he was completely out of his element in this realm of existence. "It's a bit of a time travel, not quite sure how many centuries back... but I'm sure you can handle it," Rumpelstiltskin continued. "Goes by the name of Chernabog."

The echoing, sinister laughter at the end of his sentence was not unnoticed by the soldier of the Lord, and Cas once again made to protest. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't hearing any of it; he grasped the angel by the shoulders and spun him so he was facing the opposite direction. "Now, now, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

The feeling of a hard shove from a kick of the Dark One's boot in his lower back made Castiel stumble forward, and then darkness fell around him. The angel widened his eyes, startled for a moment at the sudden change in daylight to moonlight. Had Rumpelstiltskin somehow been able to manipulate Castiel's own powers against his will? The idea made the angel shudder. But there was nothing to be done for it now; he had to do the job, or else risk whatever sort of punishment the Dark One may be able to dish out.

* * *

"But the curse broke," Snow said, confused as to why August was still made of wood instead of being human once more.

"Not for me," August replied, his voice heavy. "When it lifted, I could move again, but I stayed like this." He looked away from her, seemingly ashamed. "This is my own punishment, not the Queen's. I did this to myself."

"August, I'm so sorry," Snow said, her eyes filled with care for the man. She wished there was something she could do for him. She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch his eye, make him look at her again. "But you don't have to hide." He looked at her in disbelief. "There are people in Storybrooke who care about you." She paused, noticing the raise of his eyebrows. "Emma." He furrowed his brows almost guiltily. "Your father."

"How is he?" he asked, quick to grasp onto a subject other than Emma. He had too many mixed feelings where she was involved, and he really didn't want to open that can of worms right now. His father was a much safer subject, even if his heart did ache with the mention of him. "My papa?"

Snow smiled affectionately, leaning in to emphasize her point of how much people cared for him. "He misses you."

"I know," August replied, and he turned away, upset with himself. "But I can't let him see me like this." He turned back to her quickly, just one added thought to that. "Or Emma."

"Please, reconsider," she pleaded. "They could all use you back, there's been a lot going on." Her words sped up, like all her thoughts were trying to rush out at once. "Henry's father returned, Emma found him -"

"What?" he cut her off weakly. "Emma and Neal? They're back together again?" His heart began to sink, and yet soar at once. Perhaps they could have the happiness he never could?

Immediately she realized she had said the wrong thing, and began to back track. "Uh... no. Actually, he's engaged to someone he met in New York."

"Oh. I was hoping..." he trailed off, lost in thought, then chuckled derisively at himself. "That's my problem. Hoping." Snow's eyebrows furrowed as she watched him in this emotional hell he was in. "Hoping that things could... still work out." Between Emma and Neal? Or Emma and himself? "Hoping that I could find... redemption for the mistakes I've made." He leaned in toward Snow, clearly very upset about the turn his life had taken. "But maybe some things you just don't come back from."

She couldn't believe what was he was saying, and she was almost shaking with the emotions now running through herself caused by this conversation. Couldn't this man who she sat beside see how much they cared for him and would welcome him back with open arms? "No matter what you've done, you deserve a second chance."

"That's easy for you to say," August said, leaning back into the couch with a 'thwump'. "You never had to worry about forgiveness, redemption... You never needed it."

At this, her voice took on a motherly tone, and she set him with a hard, but honest look. "August, it's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself." His eyes opened wide, and she continued. "Come back to town with me, we'll find Marco -"

"You expect me to face him like this? A woodpile of failure?"

"Don't say that."

"You wanna help me?" he asked, leaning close to her again, his voice low and hard. "Leave me." She stared at him incredulously, her eyes starting to tear up. "And don't tell anyone you saw me."

Dean almost panicked when he heard the woman - he thought the guy August had called her Snow? - moving toward the trailer door, having gotten so absorbed by the conversation inside he'd forgotten to procure himself an escape route. Eyes darting around quickly, he did the only thing available to him; he ducked down on his stomach and rolled underneath the trailer.

From his pathetic hiding place, Dean watched the woman disappear into the trees, the same way they had come in, presumably to go relay the information to Emma. He wondered what information Emma had about this town that she hadn't yet spilled. He was gonna have to ask a lot more questions now that he had... well, whatever all  _that_  was in his head.

Once he was sure the girl was gone and that Stumpy inside wasn't going to spot him (the heavy footed bastard had headed to the rear end of the trailer, so the coast was clear) Dean pushed himself out of the dirt and headed back into the trees. Only a few steps into the tree line, he stilled and put up his hands instinctually, an arrowhead pointed at the side of his head. After swallowing his initial panic down, his trademark smirk found it's way to his face. "How long did you know I was here?" he asked with feigned calmness.

Snow kept the arrow trained on his head as she stepped in front of him. "I've known since you began following me in the first place, before August's." She narrowed her eyes at him, and Dean raised an eyebrow; yep, she was definitely turning him on with this badass attitude. "Who are you? You're not from around here."

"I just popped in from Wonderland, actually," Dean retorted, the sarcasm obvious in his voice. "Took a wrong turn at Albuquerque." In reply, he received a booted toe to the shin, the arrow never losing it's target.

"You know I'm going to call the police," Snow threatened. "Since you were stalking me and all."

"Oh, good," Dean said, a dry chuckle escaping. "I've been meaning to have a chat with Emma."

Now her hand moved, just a fraction of an inch, but Dean noticed it. "You... know Emma?" Snow asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "Well... then..." she lowered the bow, and Dean let a small sigh of relief out. He was then surprised when she suddenly grasped his ear and tugged hard, sending a shock of pain shooting through him. "Let's go see her together, shall we?" She then proceeded to drag Dean along by his ear.

"Ow, quit it, lady!" He protested, hunched over slightly as she tugged him through the woods. His ear was throbbing.

"Tell me your name and how you know Emma and I will let go, as long as you promise to stick close." She paused and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "If you stray, I won't hesitate to shoot you," she added, shrugging her quiver on her shoulder.

"Okay, okay!" Dean relented, giving her a glare. She had to have kids or something, the way she acted. "Dean Winchester. We crashed into the town sign, my brother is in the hospital, and apparently he went to high school with Emma or something, alright?"

They continued to walk, and the woman kept glancing at him, as though she were gauging his truth telling as she pursed her lips. Reluctantly, she let go of the grasp on his ear. He immediately stood upright, and proceeded to rub his ear. "Sheesh," he grumbled, casting dark looks her direction as he tramped along beside her, his mind filled with her talk of curses and queens, and wondering where Castiel had disappeared to. It was bad enough Cas had been sneaking around normally, but now he was doing the same thing here? That damned angel was leaving behind far too many questions lately, and him being here at all was just that much more stress thrown onto the shit pile.

* * *

Needless to say, Castiel was very displeased at being trapped inside of Rumpelstiltskin's shop. He clenched his teeth together and stared at the door for quite a while, wanting, no, needing to get out there and return to aiding Crowley, before he'd given up and moved on to snooping around at all of Gold's belongings. Although, more technically, all of the belongings of other people that happened to be in Gold's shop. He frowned at the pair of puppets that sat on the counter; the echo of their souls still hung around them like a shout into the Grand Canyon, reverberating their previous life back in a whimper of its former self. He continued on, his fingers ghosting over a pair of ruby slippers that sat on one of the shelves, and then faintly grazing a small model ship that was nearby. An eclectic collection, that was for sure.

He heard Gold return to the shop when his back was turned, his hand brushing over an old cane that leaned in the corner. "Manhandling the merchandise, are we?" the shop owner asked, amusement present in his words.

"What are you doing in this world?" Castiel asked, cutting to the chase.

"Not even a little bit of foreplay?" Gold said, a smirk on his face, causing Cas to cock his head to the side in question.

"I do not understand what sexual attention has to do with anything," the angel said, deadpan. "I need to know how and why you are here and not in the Enchanted Forest. This is not your realm, just as I am not of yours."

"Castiel, there is much of my world and your world that you clearly don't grasp, and I dare say that your maker perhaps designed my realm to be an enigma to those of your ilk." Gold stepped toward the counter, walking behind it and approaching Cas where he still stood. "As you feathered fellows like to say... the Lord works in mysterious ways."

Gold could see he was irritating the angel very clearly; Castiel's jaw clenched tighter and his eyes narrowed to even smaller slits than seemed possible. With a resigned sigh, he took another step, this time toward a cabinet that was settled near the cane that Castiel was standing beside. "Castiel... I know that you do not trust me," he said, glancing at the angel from the corner of his eye as he opened the doors and reached inside. "But I am asking that for this moment, you set aside your apparent hatred of me and listen to a proposition."

If looks could kill, Castiel's demeanor would have destroyed every fiber of Gold's being. "Why should I even begin to forego the way you have betrayed me and listen to any manner of deals you may have?" his low voice rumbled angrily.

A flicker of doubt and deep seeded regret passed over Gold's features, gone in an instant, but not fast enough to escape the angel's observation. "Because in this case, you're not doing me the favor." Gold withdrew the hand that was inside the cupboard, revealing a small, delicate, porcelain teacup. "You're doing it for her."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: SO? What do you think of that? Sorry it took so long to write this chapter guys, life over the holiday months has been hectic and UGHHHH. (I do hope I'm doing some justice for these characters!) IF I EVER HAVE A SINGLE MOMENT OF OUT OF CHARACTER-NESS PLEASE CALL ME ON MY SHIT OKAY?
> 
> Chapter Song: Bird Song by Florence + The Machine
> 
> Also did you notice the new song quote thing at the beginning of the chapters? Pimp, right? ...I stole the idea from River Winters (please don't kill me I DREW YOU FAN ARTS OF CALEX SO WE ARE EVEN mwahahahaaaaa)Okay, so... we've already got the next chapter started, so expect that HOPEFULLY within a month from now. YAY.


	7. The Truth Will Set You Free

_"Lights will guide you home / And ignite your bones / And I will try to fix you" -Coldplay_

Rumbling from Henry's stomach made him look up from where he sat in one of the hospital chairs, and he wondered where Dean was with the promised dinner. It had been an hour, and there was no way it took that long to get some take out from Granny's. He was only eleven and he at least knew that much. Something was wrong, and by the way Emma was drumming her fingers against the armrest, she knew it too. There was no way for them to tell what kind of problems Dean had run into until he other called or showed up, so they, and the bedridden Winchester brother, were left to worry.

The trio heard Dean in the hall before they saw him, complaining grumpily to someone they couldn't see. "Really. Silence all the way here? Seriously?" Sam wondered who in the world he could be talking to, and a moment later, he walked in, his foul mood apparent, accompanied by a petite woman dressed in white from head to toe, a quiver and bow strapped to her back. "Can someone please explain to me why there is a freaking Ent Man in the woods?"

The shorter woman reached up and slapped the back of Dean's head, and Sam had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. He took a closer look at her, and then down at the large book of Henry's that still lay in his lap. She bore quite a resemblance to the figure of Snow White in the book's illustrations. "Dean, calm down," he said vaguely, distractedly, as he looked in the book once again, flipping through the pages.

"Calm down?" Dean asked, staring at his brother incredulously. "I just saw 'Snow' here talking to Pinocchio!"

At those words, Emma and Henry exchanged a significant glance, and then Emma looked at Snow the same way. Now Sam was definitely paying attention - Dean had just called the woman Snow and she was definitely the spitting image from the book. Something very wrong was happening in this town. "Pinocchio, Dean?" Sam asked, skeptical.

"August?" Emma chanced, her eyebrows furrowed in Snow's direction. "You saw August?"

"Can we all just back up and explain what is going on here?" Sam asked, still not having been filled in about the unsuccessful dinner trip between Emma, Dean, and Henry over an hour ago.

"Yeah, I can help in that department," said a new voice from the doorway. Sam looked and his eyed widened, his pulse speeding up - things were never good when the Trickster was around. And there the tiny archangel stood, leaning against his hospital room door. "Hiya, Sammy. Miss me?"

"How the hell are you still alive?" Sam asked, feeling like his jaw had dropped to the linoleum floor.

" _Trickster_. God, does explaining that to you geniuses get old." Gabriel rolled his eyes and walked into the room, taking a seat and tossing his feet up leisurely on the end of the bed.

"Wait, you know Gabe too?" Snow asked, becoming more confused.

"Lady, we don't know what's going on here at all," Dean said, taking a spot against the wall, crossing his arms and watching everyone in the room. "So somebody start spilling the beans. We dished our details, so now it's time to own up to yours."

Another glance between the Storybrooke locals proved that they were in for quite a tale. "Are you sure we can trust these two?" Snow asked in a low voice, but not low enough to escape Sam's ears.

Emma looked up and she locked eyes with Sam for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, these two are good people."

"Okay, we get it, everybody here is a trusting twit, time to move on already," Gabriel said, a grin on his face. "And I mean that in the most caring way," he sassed, noticing the affronted look that crossed over Snow's features. "Well. Let's start at the beginning, hm?" He clapped his hands together for effect. "This is the story of how I died."

After faking his death, he explained, he went to the Enchanted Forest to hide out from his brothers even better than he had on earth, but he bumped into Rumpelstiltskin, and became his indentured servant, essentially. Completed his witness protection program by hiding in plain sight; becoming a beloved children's story. "Wait, so you're telling me that you're Willy Wonka?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.

"Yes. You know, you really should get a Nobel Prize for your remarkable mind," Gabriel quipped, a smirk on his face. "So. I was Wonka-ing it up in Wonka land, and then the Queen unleashed her curse. I got dragged back to this world, but this time, I was Total Recalled. No memories except for 'Gabe the Candyman.'"

"Okay, this curse though," Dean interrupted from where he now had taken a seat on top of a side table. "What is it? And... seriously? Willy Wonka?"

"Oh please, don't act all holier than thou, Dean," Gabriel said, giving him a look that read "eat me."

"Regina's curse," Snow said, her thumbnail between her teeth. "She cast it in our world, the Enchanted Forest, she wanted to destroy everyone's happiness, especially my own." She glanced over to where Sam sat with the book now forgotten in his lap. "That book is us," she explained, giving him a small, weak smile. "I know it is impossible to believe..."

"Impossible doesn't even begin to scratch the surface," Emma said, her eyes raking over the leather tome as well. "But, whether you believe or not... it's true. And Regina took all the people in that book, dumped them here."

"So... what, I'm supposed to believe you're _the_ Snow White?" Dean asked with a sarcastic tone.

The local set all looked at him. "Yes. I am."

Dean looked at Emma, a brow raised. "So who are you, the swan princess?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Emma said, burying her face into her cup of cocoa. "I'm the smmmmer." She mumbled into her cup inaudibly.

"Who the what now?"

"The _Savior._ " Emma busied herself with spinning the mug in her hands.

"Savior? Wait, I saw that... hold on..." Sam began flipping through the pages of the book for a few moments, then he slapped a hand onto the page excitedly when he found it. "Here, the Savior was prophesized by Rumpelstiltskin. But..." His eyebrows furrowed and he looked back up at the two women in the room. "That would make you Snow White's daughter."

"Well... Yes." Snow said, receiving an odd look from the brothers.

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect," Gabriel started, a mischievous look on his face, "but actually, from a non-linear non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big bowl of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey... stuff."

There was a moment where everyone just stared at him, before Sam piped up. "Did you seriously just quote _Doctor Who_?"

Dean looked confused. "What's _Doctor Who_?"

"Not really important," Emma said, cutting off any sort of tangent this conversation might fork into. "So, you've at least got the basics on what is going on here, can we return to the subject of seeing _August_ in the _woods_?"

"He's... completely wooden," Snow said, looking at her daughter with concern. "He's been living in an abandoned trailer down by the toll bridge."

"Well, what can we do?" Emma asked, her eyes wide. "Can we help him?"

"No... but I know someone who might be able to." Snow hiked a thumb behind her, motioning to the door. "Mother Superior."

The blonde woman furrowed her eyebrows. "The Blue Fairy?" Those words got a rude scoff from Dean, and she shot him an angry look. "I mean, she helped him when he was a kid, right? Maybe she could do it again."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Snow said with a soft, hopeful smile.

"Okay, well, let's go get Marco and then go find Mother Superior while we've still got some sunlight left." Emma looked over at the older Winchester, nodded her head toward the door. "You. With us." She pointed at Gabriel. "You..." She had mixed feelings about this man, since it had somehow come out that he was an angel? Was he trust worthy? She didn't know, but for now, Emma didn't have a choice. "Keep an eye on Sam. I'll send Dorothy up too." She started out of the room. "Let's go."

* * *

Back in the Enchanted Forest, Cas wondered what kept him from just teleporting home, if he was completely honest with himself. He was completely capable of just leaving this realm, but for some reason he wouldn't do it. No matter how twisted the man was, a debt was a debt, and damn it all if he would continue to be endebted to that dark man. The curiosity of the situation was perplexing him, and he could not figure the reasons behind delivering an angel blade to a man from centuries ago.

Looking around himself, Castiel realized that he was no where near any towns, and that the steep incline of the ground indicated the side of a mountain. Surely there couldn't be anyone living this far out in the woods, away from civilization. Then again, homesteading had been the norm for people centuries ago, so perhaps this man he was searching for was just another such pioneer. Or he hated people. Either way, Castiel was fraught with questions.

He decided that since Rumpelstiltskin had chosen to send him to the side of a mountain, logic only reasoned that he should head farther up to find his quarry. As he climbed the steadily increasing slope, the trees around him thinned out, becoming few and far between the further up he went. The scarce amount of trees did not phase him, but the peak coming into sight definitely set him on edge; the top of the mountain was surrounded by dark, swirling clouds, and the sky itself seemed to be sapped of all color and light. It was deeply ominous, and Castiel clenched his jaw, preparing himself for the worst. He slipped Uriel's blade into his hand, unsure of what he was walking into.

Power crackled through the air, and the hairs on the back of Castiel's vessel's neck stood straight, static charge sparking invisibly through the night. He had half a mind to just leave things alone here, forget he had ever met Rumpelstiltskin and just return to his own realm, return to his work with Crowley and opening the gates of Purgatory. Surely he didn't have to go through with delivering an angel blade to who - or what - ever resided further up this climb. And why an angel blade, he was still baffled. But he was considerably doubtful of his ability to escape at this point; Rumpelstiltskin had more than adequately shown that he was the more powerful being in this world.

"You don't belong here," a cold voice sounded from behind the angel. Cas turned in surprise, yet again appalled at the fact that he was so ill prepared for the power that he encountered here. The man who now stood before him was tall and imposing, his dark skin reflecting light from the moon in the dark night sky. He wore no clothing, allowing his heavily muscled body to be seen by any who might come across him. His nakedness did not startle Cas, as clothing was nothing to him but a human standard, but the sheer energy radiating from this being did. He took in the man's visage warily, and he stared coldly into the glowing yellow eyes that had centered on him. "You are of the heavens."

"I am." Castiel spoke in a hard voice, not wishing to betray his inner doubts of this encounter. "I have been sent to find the one called Chernabog."

A chilling smirk cracked the lips of the strange being before him, revealing sharp teeth and a wicked sneer. "You seem to have found him."

* * *

Nuns made Dean uncomfortable, he didn't know why or how, but God damn it, he just didn't like being around them. He still was foggy about whatever was going on in this town - something about a curse and fairy tale characters being brought to our world and forgetting who they really were - but he was letting the confusion slide for the moment. Apparently someone from the town, Pinocchio, according to Snow and Emma, needed their help to keep from becoming petrified wood. Dean was skeptical, but he offered to help them on their way. He figured if he scratched their backs, they'd scratch his and help him get the answers he wanted.

After leaving the hospital, the trio had gone to Granny's in search of August's father, Marco, and then had continued on in search of the Blue Fairy, who now stood before them in traditional nun's garb - minus the habbit. He vaguely thought she looked familiar for some reason, then began to pay attention to the task at hand as the woman opened her mouth to answer Emma's inquiries.

"I know about August," she said, standing demurely at the base of a tall statue in front of the church. "He came to me shortly after the curse broke and asked if I would return him to what he was."

"Yeah? So why didn't you?" Dean asked in his cop voice, attempting to help.

Mother Superior frowned at his rude tone. "Because what he was is what he is." She turned to face Marco, who looked desperately hopeful to find his son. "Do you remember the morning I found you on that beach all those years ago?" Dean wracked his brains, trying to remember any bits and pieces of fairy tales he could. Pinocchio hadn't been one of his favorites as a kid, and the Disney movie was about as close to the truth as he got, and even remembering that was foggy. Something about a whale? "The day I turned your son into a real boy?"

"Yes. It was the happiest day of my life." Dean had not problem believing the old man, the expression on his face was more genuine than anything he'd seen.

The woman smiled sadly. "I told Pinocchio so long as he remained brave, truthful, and unselfish, he would stay a real boy. But I'm afraid he did not." She looked meaningfully across the group, her eyes pausing on Dean before returning to Marco. "That is why he changed back. And that's why there's nothing I can do for him."

"It's true he's done some things he regrets," Mary Margaret (Snow freaking White, Dean was still baffled) started in August's defence. "We all have. But shouldn't he have another chance?"

"If there is still a path of redemption for August, it is one that he must travel on his own," Mother Superior answered, sadness and seriousness in her eyes. "No one can force him, or it will not be true." Marco looked completely disheartened, and Dean sort of felt sorry for the guy. Poor dude's kid had apparently been a dick in his adult life and turned back into wood. Ouch. The woman turned and began walking back toward the church.

"Don't despair, Marco. I know there's still hope for your son." Mary Margaret turned to face the man, and Dean had never felt more like an outsider. These people were going through something he could never understand, and he was just some guy. There was an edge of desperation in her voice as she finished, "There has to be."

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, clapping his hands together, wanting to get this ball rolling. "Alright, so Blue Fairy was a bust, what next? Shouldn't there be like a frog or something to kiss around here?"

Looking exasperatedly at him, Emma rolled her eyes. "This sort of thing isn't going to be broken so easily," Mary Margaret answered with a frown. "And your sarcasm isn't helping." She stalked away, clearly not liking Dean very much in that moment.

"Aw, come on, it was a joke!" Dean tried, as the group followed behind her.

* * *

" _Dad_ , this is boring," Gabriel said, tossing an out of date magazine back onto a stack of them that lay on the hospital end table.

Sam rolled his eyes and glared at him. "Why are you even still here? Go back to your house or something."

"Hm, let me think about that," the angel said, putting a finger to his chin, imitating thoughtfulness. "Nah. Seems like all the action happens around Emma and Snow. And now that you guys are here, woo!" He was being sarcastic now, rolling his eyes and twirling his fingers in the air. "Sounds like a party to me."

"I thought you were hiding." Sam leered at him, an eyebrow raised.

Gabriel pursed his lips, grabbing another one of the gossip rags that lay on the table. "Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun."

A knock on the door frame made both men look to the room's entrance, where the visiting volunteer, Dorothy, was peeking in. "Knock knock," she said with a grin, coming in with a little wave. "Oh, hello Gabe," she said with a nod to the town's candy man.

"Good afternoon, Dorothy," Gabriel answered with a flirtatious grin.

Sam fixed him with a mighty bitchface before turning to Dorothy. "Hey, you ever go home?" He was actually curious; he'd been there since this morning, at least eight hours. Volunteers usually didn't pull all day shifts, at least in his experience.

"I do, actually," she replied, sitting in one of the spare chairs. "And I'm off right now. Came to see you on my own." She gave a small smile to Sam, and he let the corners of his lips turn up at the sight.

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.

"First off, because you're cute," she said daringly, setting him with a look that told it all. Yeah, she was definitely checking him out, which Sam could hardly believe, considering his face had a few scratches and he had two casts on him. Not to mention the internal bleeding they'd had to take care of with surgery. "Second... I heard you guys talking to Sheriff Swan and Mary Margaret earlier. I waited to come back... so here I am." She raised an eyebrow at the bedridden Winchester. "To tell you off about the fake name. Really? A Disney movie?"

Chuckling, he shrugged, a sheepish look on his face. "Hey, blame Dean for that one."

Dorothy gave a roll of her eyes as she leaned forward a bit, laughing as well. "Yeah, yeah, your brother."

A scoff came from the side of the room where Gabriel sat. "Get a room!"

Bitchface #247 was directed at him in a second flat. "Already got one, thanks. Don't like it, leave."

"Ugh, I have to go finish stocking those shelves anyway." Dropping the magazine back on the table, Gabriel stood and stalked out of the room, humorously holding his chin up proudly.

The room was quiet a moment, and Sam reflected back on what Dorothy had said. "...were you being serious?"

"About what?"

"You really think I'm..." He paused a second, wondering how to word his inquiry. "...attractive?"

With a laugh, the woman rolled her eyes, but Sam wasn't sure if her sarcasm was genuine. "Please, I was just trying to get Gabe to leave me alone."

A skeptical, breathy chuckle escaped his lips. "Yeah, right." He chanced a look at her eyes, the clear blue of them were almost entrancing to him. She looked down at her lap shyly, her bottom lip between her teeth, and he could have sworn her cheeks were slightly rosier.

"Aren't you going to guess?" She looked back up at him with one eyebrow raised, and she propped her elbow on the arm of her chair, her palm cradling her chin.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion. "Guess what?"

With a little laugh (which Sam thought was a beautiful sound) she nodded at the huge leather book that rested beside him on the bed. "Duh."

"Oh!" He chuckled at himself, and picked up the tome, placing it on his lap. "You... want me to guess who you are."

"Regular Sherlock Holmes, aren't we?" Her sarcastic tone and smile on her face gave Sam little butterflies in his stomach.

His face suddenly fell to seriousness when he realized something. "...he's not here too, is he?" They both laughed, realizing the amount of ridiculousness in the situation that had fallen upon this small town.

As their laughter died, Dorothy took on a thoughtful look. "...you know, he might be. I don't exactly know everyone." Sam was taken aback, but Dorothy charged forward. "But come on, guess."

"Okay..." He thought hard, going over every story he'd glimpses during his perusal of the giant book. Suddenly a story that wasn't fully explored in it popped into his head. "Uh... Wait, _the_ Dorothy? Like, Dorothy Gale?"

A smile spread across Dorothy's lips, and she tapped the end of her nose with a finger. "Ding! Tell him what he's won!"

"So, what, the Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, Tin Man? They're all here?" Sam asked, extremely intrigued by this town and all of the inhabitants.

"Well, not _all._ " Dorothy let out a small sigh, looking at the floor with an almost sad expression on her face. "Tin Man didn't make it."

That look made him feel like shoving one of his giant feet in his mouth for saying anything. "Oh. Sorry."

"Its alright. It was a long time ago." A smile crept back onto her face, her eyebrow raising once more. "Anyway... Tell me about you, Mr. Winchester. I only caught bits and pieces earlier."

Sam shrugged, and he chuckled dryly. "Okay, but it's long and boring." He vaguely wondered about his hallucinations earlier before jumping into his story. Hopefully Lucifer wouldn't be making any surprise visits.

* * *

"This is all my fault," Marco said as the group tramped through the woods. Their destination at this point was obvious; Dean recognized the area from following Snow in earlier. August's trailer wasn't too much further.

"Our children make their own decisions, Marco," Mary Margaret replied, stepping over a fallen log. "You can't blame yourself for anything that's happened."

"Yes, I can. And you should blame me, too." Dean looked at Marco as he spoke those words, wondering what the old man was getting at. Marco continued on as they followed along behind Mary Margaret. "The wardrobe." At those words Mary Margaret slowed and stopped as Marco stepped in front of her, demanding she listen to him. Dean and Emma stood back, watching the exchange. "I built for you. The one that transported Emma to this world..." Dean looked at Emma and saw her eyes go wide. "She did not go alone."

"Of course she did," Snow debated, a smile on her face that showed clearly she did not want to hear anything that was the opposite. Complete denial. "The wardrobe only had enough magic to transport one person." She made a move to walk on, but Marco stopped her with his next words.

"No, that was a lie I made The Blue Fairy tell you." Her eyebrows creased as she stared at Marco now, her face falling. Marco soldiered on, as if he had needed to get this off of his chest for years. His hands moved animatedly, his emotion behind his words unable to be controlled. "It had enough magic to transport two, and it did... your daughter... and my son... Pinocchio."

"I could have gone with her?" She asked incredulously, staring at Marco as though he'd grown a second head. "With Emma?" Emma looked down at the ground awkwardly, and Dean just watched on, like a train wreck, not able to look away.

"There is no apology I could give that could ever make up for what I did," Marco said, his voice cracking, and he stepped closer. He removed his hat, a gesture of humility toward her. Her face was wrinkling as though she was fighting tears. "But I am so sorry."

Suddenly her hand flew, striking Marco across the cheek. "Mary Margaret!" Emma started, surprised at her action. Dean just stared, appreciating the strength behind that little whack, his like pursed in an impressed fashion. "What are you doing? He's apologizing."

"No, no, that's okay. I deserve that." Marco looked so apologetic, it hurt Emma's heart, his hand against his pinkened cheek.

"No, that wasn't me," Mary Margaret said, staring at her hand like it belonged to a stranger. "Marco, I am so sorry. I'm not myself." She gripped both of her hands together in front of her chest, and she seemed upset about how she'd just behaved, staring at the ground. Dean continued to watch on in silence, wondering what was going on with Mama Bear here. "You just made a mistake. I would have done the same thing for my child." She brought her eyes, now beginning to water with threatening tears, back up to meet Marco's. "I forgive you. You were protecting your son."

"No." He shook his head vehemently. "I burdened him with a weight no child should have to bear, and I called it love."

A long moment passed, Snow's eyes fighting the tears that had gathered, and Marco looking on the verge of crying as well. Emma stood to the side, still as awkward as ever, knowing that she was the source of all of their pent up frustrations in this instance. After allowing the group a good moment to get her themselves, Dean cleared his throat loudly. "Well, if we're done with this soap opera moment, can we get a move on? August's trailer is just up ahead, so..." He trailed off, leaving it open for the others to decide what to do.

"Right. We're here for August's sake. Let's go help him." Mary Margaret cleared her throat and quickly wiped her eyes, erasing all evidence of tears. She and Marco started forward, while Dean hung back for a moment with the blonde woman, who seemed to be shocked at what had transpired.

"You okay?" He asked, knowing she must be reeling inside.

Emma steeled herself, then stepped after the other two. "Fine," she lied, not looking at him. He watched her go for a moment, a bit concerned, but followed to the trailer without pressing for more.

Marco was climbing up inside the trailer, excited to see his son again after so long, wooden or not, and Mary Margaret was right behind him. Emma and Dean hung back by the door, but they both could tell quickly that something was wrong. Marco froze once he could see the entirety of the trailer, and he looked back at Mary Margaret with a broken hearted expression. "Dude bailed, huh?" Dean said, receiving a whack on the back of his head from Emma. "Sheesh, you _are_ her daughter."

* * *

Hospitals all looked the same to Castiel, and the one in Storybrooke was no different. He followed Mr. Gold grudgingly, unable to get away from the man. He had tried, but some sort of magic from his world was dampening his ability to get away. For now, he just had to do as the man said. He had spoken to him briefly back at the antique shop about the woman he was having him help, but he was still somewhat confused.

"This woman... Belle. She is important to you." Castiel looked at Gold, trying to see him in a new light. He had never known the man to do anything for anyone other than himself, so the fact that he was trying to help a woman was baffling to him.

Gold looked sideways at the angel, a look of sadness and deep meaningfulness etched in his features. "She is everything to me."

Did this mean that the imp had fallen in love? Love was a foreign concept to Cas, at least romantically. He did not understand the emotions behind romance, but camaraderie he understood perfectly. Perhaps it could even be considered 'brotherly love', what he felt for the Winchesters. But romance... No, there were no such precedents in his existence.

The duo entered a room that looked just like every other one they had passed in the halls, this one occupied by a single bed, rather than some of the others that had two. Sitting in the bed, leisurely reading a book with her feet tucked underneath her, sat a brunette woman, who looked up at them as they entered.

A tentative smile met her lips. "Hello again, Mr. Gold." Her voice had an Australian lilt to it. Strange how so many accents could be found in that other world.

"Evening, Belle."

She brought her eyebrows down slightly, a faint frown on her face. "I've told you, I don't know who Belle is, I'm sorry." Castiel looked at Gold, and the man's pained demeanor at the girl's words, though not visible on his face, was clear in the way his shoulders tensed and his grip on the head of his cane tightened.

"Don't worry about that, dear. This man here is going to help you remember who you are." Gold looked at Castiel coldly, as though daring him to object. "Aren't you."

"I don't understand. How is he going to help me?" The girl who should be Belle was skeptical, and she leaned forward in her bed toward the two men.

Cas stepped toward her, and she shrunk back slightly, not knowing what he was going to do. "I have my ways. Just... Stay still." He reached forward with one hand, and placed two fingers to her forehead. Belle looked up at him expectedly, and when nothing seemed to be happening, she looked sideways at where Gold stood.

"Well?" Gold demanded after a minute of the clearly uneventful attempt.

"It is not working. I think that it isn't as effective as it should be considering the origin of the magic involved." Castiel felt sorry that he could not help the girl regain her memories, and he stepped back, arms falling at his side.

"Wait, did you - did you just say magic?" Belle's eyebrows shot up. Since crossing the town line and forgetting herself, she had completely forgotten magic from their world, and had witnessed some magic, though she couldn't believe it. Hearing someone else speak about magic made her heart race with intrigue.

Castiel, knowing none of the plight of hiding magic from her, due to over excitement, began to answer. "Yes, I did, as your world and this one are-"

"You need your rest, obviously." Gold cut off, stepping forward, his cane clinking loudly. "Castiel here needs to be on his way back to his friends."

"Oh. Alright. Thank you for trying, Mr. Castiel." Belle smiled at the angel, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then returned to her book.

Cas headed to the door, knowing that they had been excused, but he stopped and watched as Gold lingered behind a moment more. He looked devastated at the predicament that had befallen his love, and he was trying so hard to hide it. Truly this man that had once been Rumpelstiltskin had changed much more than Castiel would ever know.

Finally Gold dragged himself away, and the duo walked side by side down the halls once more. "You care deeply for that woman." Cas observed.

"That I do." Gold replied matter-of-factly.

Creasing his eyebrows, Cas looked at the other man. "...you could have asked for my assistance, rather than forcing me to help," he scolded.

"Ah, but would you really have done anything?" Gold posed, then watched the soldier of heaven as he considered. Silence stretched between them with no answer. "Exactly."

"I am... Sorry she has no memory." Castiel said sincerely. "Her memories of you must be very different than mine."

"I have changed much since then, Castiel." He smiled sadly, reflecting on his time with Belle and how she had done so much to transform him.

"That is obvious. Though your forcefulness still seems to remain in tact." He gave a sharp look to the other man, who frowned.

"Look... I know you have no reason to trust me, but... I owe you a favor. Anything you ask, you shall have. In repayment for my... Aggressive behavior."

This notion startled Cas. "Why do you suddenly wish to reimburse me for an act you clearly forced me to perform?"

Gold paused, the sad smile returning to his face. "...It's what she would want."

* * *

He had to hurry, had to find Emma. _She_ was going to do unknowable things to Storybrooke. He didn't know exactly what, but he knew that _she_ had something up her sleeve that would be bad news for everyone in town. _Have to find Emma_.

The station, of course, Emma would be at the station. August drove as fast as he could, hoping that in his moments of cowardice things hadn't gone to hell.

"Emma?!" He called through the halls of the police station, praying that she was here. He was losing hope will every yell, but he didn't stop. He was going to find her, no matter what. "Hello?! Is anyone here?!"

It was hard to walk, his wooden limbs unrelenting and stiff, but he hobbled his way along. He saw the phone on Emma's desk and wobbled over as well as he could, panic coursing through him. He grabbed the old rotary phone and brought it closer, putting the receiver to his ear as he dialed Emma's cell number. He was breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest, as he listened for her to pick up on the other end.

As they hiked back through the woods, their destination being the hospital once again, a chirping noise rang from Emma's pocket. Dean looked over from where he walked beside her, and Snow and Marco looked up from where they lingered back a few feet behind them. Emma dug out her phone and answered without looking at the screen.

"Emma Swan."

"Emma, it's August." He sounded hurried, panicked.

Emma stopped in her tracks, and motioned to the others to slow and pause with her. "August?"

"Listen to me. I have to warn you."

"Warn me? Warn me about what?" There was no answer.

Static crackled on the phone, and something clicked behind August's back, like a wire slapping lazily against the wall. He turned around slowly to see _her_ standing there, the wire from the telephone hanging limply away from where it was supposed to be nestled in its port.

"You disappoint me, August." _She_ stepped toward him, a look of contempt on her face.

He put the phone down, and backed away from the woman who stood mere feet away from him. "I know what you did to The Dragon." _She_ paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "A few days after you left, I went back to beg him to fix me, and we both know what I found." _The Dragon's body, laying dead on the floor._ "At the time, I was too wrapped up in myself to wonder what had happened, to question who could have done such a thing." He raised up a photo, the one he knew for a fact she had given to the Dragon for her supposed 'cure for her cancer'. "But then I found this photo in your car, and it hit me. You and your grandmother... you went back there." He dropped the photo, staring at her incredulously. "You killed him."

"You should have left." _She_ stepped towards him, but this time he stood his ground. "I counted on you to wanna save yourself."

They were standing almost toe to toe now, and he stared down at her with every ounce of defiance he had lefin his wooden body. _She_ had killed the Dragon in China, _she_ had lied and manipulated her way here. And he was not going to let _her_ do anything to harm this town, if it was the last thing he did. "Maybe that's what I'm trying to do."

He chuckled dryly at himself as realization hit him hard. "I've lived a life of selfishness, cowardice, and dishonesty. And only I can cure that, not magic, not science. Just me." His face showed every bit of emotion that he had left, all the caring and love he had for the people of Storybrooke. "I care about the people in this town. And if you wanted The Dragon's little bit of magic, well, you have hit the mother lode here, and you are not going to harm anyone to get it."

He stared at her hard, as if daring her to try to stop him. "I'm going to warn them."

_Her_ eyebrows were creased as though she had taken every word of his to heart. "No. You're not." _She_ pulled out of her coat pocket a high-wattage taser, the electricity sparking strongly across the two points, and too quickly, jammed it into August's chest.

Emma had tried calling August back multiple times on their rush back into town. They all went back to Emma and May Margaret's apartment on the way there to enlist David's (Mary Margaret's husband and Emma's father, and Dean was still weirder out by the fact that her parents were barely any older than she was, but he supposed he'd probably seen weirder) help in trying to contact August, since he was Deputy Sheriff. They wasted no time with introductions, other than a quick "We'll talk later" from David, and soon they, and Henry who had demanded to come along, were off to the station.

David pulled his phone away from his ear, his own attempts having no luck either. "If August is still at the station, he's not picking up."

"In my experience, that means someone cut the line," Dean stated as they rushed along. They were outside the station now, hurrying along past the row of shrubbery next to the sidewalk, and suddenly the door of the building came flying open. A clearly injured wooden man came stumbling out, pain evident in his stride.

"August!" Emma shouted, and they all began to run toward him, even as he collapsed face first to the brick-laid courtyard. "August!" Emma was the first at his side, followed by the old man, Marco.

"Oh, my child," he cried, as Dean knelt down beside them. Marco tugged on August's arm, attempting to turn him over. Dean grasped August's black leather jacket and helped turn him, gently rolling him so he was facing them. "My boy, my boy." Marco's arm slid behind the wooden man's neck, helping him at least hold his head up. "What happened to you?"

August looked like he was fading quickly, Dean recognized the signs of someone dying far too easily. "I'm so sorry, papa." He was shivering uncontrollably, never a good sign.

"No. There is nothing to apologize for." Marco said, trying to hold back his sobs. "Everything is gonna be all right."

The wooden man turned his head toward the woman who kelt beside him. "Emma." He said her voice happily, and it was obvious in that tone of relief that he had feelings for her, feelings that probably were never able to be acted upon.

"August."

Suddenly he lurched forward, and Dean, startled, helped him to sit up,a look of realization and panic on his face, and he needed to speak with Emma urgently. "Emma...She's..." His voice was fading, this wasn't good. He gasped, trying to keep breathing, keep telling her what she needed to know. "She..." His eyebrows wrinkled up, full of concern and care, but his words faded away. He let out one final breath, and his like moved once, trying to say what needed saying, but it was too late.

He was gone.

"Oh, no." Marco sobbed, and Dean lay August slowly back against the bricks below them. "Not again." The old man leaned his head against his son's, now unable to keep the tears back any longer. Emma and Dean stood, letting Marco have his time with his son as privately as they could. He looked over at Emma to see her eyebrows creased, some fleeting emotion cross her face. Perhaps she'd had conflicting emotions where august was concerned as well. And then her face changed, as she saw someone walking closer, into one of recognition.

Dean turned to see that guy, Henry's dad, he had figured early that morning when they'd crashed, approaching tentatively. When he saw August laying there on the ground, he looked stunned. "August?"

Mary Margaret was visibly upset, as she stared at where he lay, but she wasn't in tears. It looked more like denial. "No. It can't end this way. He was supposed to get a second chance."

"What happened?" Henry's dad (Dean couldn't remember his name at the moment - Nick? Ned?) asked.

"Someone killed him to stop him from telling us something," Dean explained, trying to help out while everyone else was having an emotional break. "I mean, telling you guys, I guess. Whatever, you know."

"He used his last dying breath to warn us," Emma said, her voice cracking slightly with emotion, ignoring Dean's stumbling over words. "I will not let that be in vain."

Henry hadn't stopped staring at the body, and Dean took notice. "You alright, kid?" He didn't want this kid to be traumatized or anything by seeing a dead guy, wooden or otherwise.

The boy just kept looking, like he was trying to think of something. "Brave... truthful..." He was mumbling, but Dean had pretty sharp ears. What was he muttering? "...and unselfish." His head raised now, and he spoke clearly to get everyone's attention. "Brave, truthful, and unselfish." Everyone looked at him, varying degrees of confusion or agony on their faces. "Don't you see what this means? That's what Pinocchio was supposed to be." He looked at his grandparents (grandparents!) with determination written in his features. "There's still hope. We need the Blue Fairy."

In an act of coincidence that blew Dean's mind, Mother Superior, the Blue Fairy herself, was running up the path to meet them, coming to rest beside Mary Margaret. "I'm here, Henry."

"What does Henry mean?" Mary Margaret asked, her eyebrows still screwed up in confusion.

Calmly, Mother Superior began to explain. "I was able to turn Pinocchio into a real boy after he sacrificed his life for Marco's. If his actions today were indeed brave, truthful, and unselfish, then you're right." She stepped beside where August lay, looking at Henry before looking down at the wooden man. "There's a chance I can do it again."

The look of agony on Marco's face was heartbreaking, even to Dean's hunt-hardened hide. "Please, I beg of you." His voice broke, and he could only whisper, "Try."

The nun nodded, and Dean backed up, giving her some space as she revealed a wand from beneath her winter's cloak. She took a deep breath, and concentrated, pointing her wand even as it began to glow a light blue color. Dean stared in fascination as the light grew brighter, and then the man that lay dead on the ground began to glow brightly as well.

He had to look away, the light grew so bright around him, but when Dean looked back, there was now a boy, maybe nine, ten years old, laying in the spot where August had just been. Was that little Pinocchio? Wow, could this case get any creepier? "What, he had a reset button or something?" he joked awkwardly, feeling really, really uneasy about this. He received dirty looks from Emma and Mary Margaret alike.

"Father?" Everyone watched as the small Pinocchio looked up into his father's face.

Marco's relief and love was obvious in his sob filled voice. "Pinocchio."

Everyone exchanged glances, most of them happy, relieved. Dean was mildly creeped out with an 'oh my god is this over yet I'm going to hurl' face.

"Look." Marco held his child's hand and asked him to look at it. "Look."

Pinocchio looked at himself, suddenly realizing what was going on, although very child like. "I'm a real boy." Wow, Dean hadn't been far off at all with the reset button comment. It was as though five minutes ago he had just been a child puppet, the years that had passed erased into nothingness. Creepy. "I'm a real boy!"

The small boy's father chuckled as Pinocchio jumped up and grasped his father tightly, hugging him around the neck, and Marco return med the embrace in full. It was then Dean noticed a new comer, a dark skinned woman, very pretty, her hair slick and straight, approaching Henry's father as everyone else watched the reunion take place. She had a look of pure shock on her face, as though she had just witnessed the transformation take place and couldn't believe her eyes.

Neal! That was his name. Dean smiled proudly at himself for remembering before refocusing on what was happening here. Neal turned and noticed the woman behind him and smiled. "Honey." So then, from what Emma had told him vaguely earlier, then this was... Tamara, the fiancée.

Tamara stared at the scene, eyes wide. "It's... it's true." So, what, lover boy here had tried to tell her the truth about the fairy tale crap and she hasn't believed him, and now she was witnessing it. Well, who would believe it?

Mother Superior kneeled down in front of Pinocchio and gave him a kind look, full of hope. "Do better this time, Pinocchio." She tapped the end of his nose with her finger, a gesture of warmth and to serve as a reminder of his past.

Again, the fiancée was stunned. "Pinocchio? That's..."

Neal looked at her, raising his eyebrows, nodding slightly. "Yeah."

Emma now kneeled down next to the boy who was once August, conflicting emotions crossing her face. Of course, she had once had confused feelings for the dude, ad now he was like nine years old. Creepy. "Pinocchio? I have to ask you a question." The boy nodded up at her, blissfully unaware of who she was or what she had to ask, but he was going to try anyway. "I need you to think real hard, okay?"

Observing everything going on had always been one of Dean's strengths, and he noticed everyone's expressions during the exchange. As soon as Emma had approached the kid, only one person's face fell, even if just slightly. Tamara. It was probably nothing except shock from what was happening, but it was still something to take note of.

"Before you turned into a little boy, you were trying to tell us something very important," Emma continued. "Do you remember?" Everyone was watching intently now, hoping that he could shed some light on the mystery. "You were trying to warn us about something."

"I... I don't remember," Pinocchio said, and Emma's face fell, just a tiny bit. "If I did, I would be truthful. I promise." Emma smiled at the boy, then looked up, exchanging glances with her parents and Dean. They had no way of finding out what August had needed to tell them now.

Marco stood up, taking Pinocchio by the hand, and they started back toward Marco's home. Emma and Henry rushed to hug David and Mary Margaret, the emotions of family reuniting overwhelming them. Dean hung back awkwardly, knowing those emotions far too well, but not having anyone present to share them with. Besides, this was all very chick-flick and overall creeptastic, he wouldn't wanna hug anybody anyway. "Come on, Dean," Emma said as the family broke apart. "Cocoa, my treat?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "Yeah? Okay," he said, and as they turned to start toward their apartment, Dean walked slower, hoping to spy on the couple left behind, to catch as much as he could before out of earshot.

"If you wanna head back to New York, I wouldn't blame you," Neal started. "I know this isn't what you signed up for.

There was a pause, and dean worried he would get out of range before he could hear everything. "What I signed up for...is you. I love you."

"I can't believe how lucky I was to have met you," Neal replied.

"We were both lucky."

Ugh, mushy lovey crap. Obviously _that_ had been a waste of his time. "Dean, come on! We'll make it to go and take some to your brother!" Emma called back to him, and he hurried up a bit, catching up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR NOTE: SDKLJFGHLSDKFJGH FINALLY DONE WITH THIS CHAPTERRRRRRR it took so long (not as long as the last one but whatever lol) ANYWAY I am excited to finally be past this point, because very soon the traumatic shit starts when we get to THE END OF SEASON 6 UGH AND THEN NEVERLAND AND SO MUCH STUFF PLANNED ITS A DOOZY.
> 
> WOAH THIS CHAP WAS LIKE LONGER THAN TWO OF ANY OF MY PREVIOUS CHAPTERS DUUUUUDE
> 
> ahem. the chapter song this time was Fix You by Coldplay. I hope you guys can see where in each chapter the songs relate to yep because there are MOMENTS they are tied to. ...this one should be obvious lol
> 
> OKAY MY LOVELIES IM OUTTA HERE FOR NOW CHECK YA LATAZ


	8. To Be Continued Elsewhere...

Hello again, ! It's been a while! I've started working on my fic again... I edited a few things like spelling, grammar, and chapter lengths, so a chapter or two got split into two.

HOWEVER... I will no longer be updating the fic here or AO3. I will be focusing on Wattpad and Tumblr, and Amino apps dedicated to Once and SPN.

Check me out on Wattpad, Tumblr, and Amino apps! (links in my profile)

THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT I RECEIVED WHILE I WAS HERE AND I HOPE YOU ALL CONTINUE TO ENJOY THE STORY IN THE OTHER PLACES I MENTIONED ABOVE.


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